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The Traditional Family
Oct. 15th, 2008 10:12 am I always suspected that Malkhos and I were born too late.
Every night, I read Madeline four of her favorite books before she goes to bed. One is called Bludbird's Nest. The story is fairly simple: the narrative begins in autumn and chronicles a mother bird working on her project of building a nest for the spring. As the pages are turned and the story is told about how she builds the nest, brown yarn, strand by strand, takes the shape of a nest. The last page of the story features a pop-up nest with four baby bluebirds in it.
This is where Madeline gets confused. "Where is the daddy bird?" she asks, and I must admit, the first time she asked me this question, she took me by surprise. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe off looking for more worms."
But Madeline didn't accept this. "No, it's that one right there!" she said, pointing to the largest of the baby birds.
"Is it?" I said.
"Yes," she replied. "And that's the Grammy bird, and the Papa bird, and the Andrew bird!"
"That's right," I said.
Later, Malkhos said to me, "May God make sure that the Department of Family Services never knows that we're telling her that a family has both a mother and a father in it."
"Of course not," I said. "It might be actionable."
Every night, I read Madeline four of her favorite books before she goes to bed. One is called Bludbird's Nest. The story is fairly simple: the narrative begins in autumn and chronicles a mother bird working on her project of building a nest for the spring. As the pages are turned and the story is told about how she builds the nest, brown yarn, strand by strand, takes the shape of a nest. The last page of the story features a pop-up nest with four baby bluebirds in it.
This is where Madeline gets confused. "Where is the daddy bird?" she asks, and I must admit, the first time she asked me this question, she took me by surprise. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe off looking for more worms."
But Madeline didn't accept this. "No, it's that one right there!" she said, pointing to the largest of the baby birds.
"Is it?" I said.
"Yes," she replied. "And that's the Grammy bird, and the Papa bird, and the Andrew bird!"
"That's right," I said.
Later, Malkhos said to me, "May God make sure that the Department of Family Services never knows that we're telling her that a family has both a mother and a father in it."
"Of course not," I said. "It might be actionable."
