Tuesday, February 1, 2011

We grew up by the sea

There are stories about farm children who pretty much raised all the rest of their siblings when their parents were sick and held the farm together. My grandpa was one of those kids. His -something like eight or nine- other siblings, and both his parents got sick at the same time, so he ran the farm and took care of them. *can't remember how old he was*

That's fantastic. I firmly believe being around younger children is good for a kid. Give them a little responsibility and trust to look after something living. However. This comes with some boundaries. As a parent, don't give your seven year old and her seven year old friend the responsibility of watching the four year old and one year old baby brother every time they're together. They are friends and want to hang out and play, not watch over the kiddos. Don't shirk responsibility just cause the girls are old enough to be aware of how to watch something.

Next, when your daughter and her friend are eight years old, and you decide to sign your name to watching someone else's whelp, don't sign the girls' names to it too.

This is why I'm great with children, they love me, and I just get so bleh afterwards.

There's one word for this; Logan.

Ellen (Erin's mom) took on the responsibility of 'watching' Logan, not babysitting (she wasn't getting paid or anything), just you know, watching him so his parents could go fool around and pretend they didn't have a child. They ignored this kid like crazy. The one thing we had in common, was that he and I both grew up by the sea. End commonness. So this kid was like three, couldn't talk, grunted for things, screamed to get what he wanted, had no concept of right and wrong, and almost no understanding of word meanings in conversations around him. He used to walk up and down the shore all by himself, when he wasn't doing that he'd get sat alone in front of a television.

I wasn't aware of stuff like reporting to proper authorities. What I knew was, I hated being left with some kid who couldn't go to the restroom and pooped his pants while he walked if he didn't have a diaper on.

Been wondering what happened to that kid lately. Did he stay like that? Is he alive? Did he go join a pack of wolves or get driven out into the middle of nowhere and left there for the wolves to take him in like I told my mom should be done? (I was an adamant little tyke.)

Well, turns out Dani knew him, and she hated that kid too. Worst kid ever, she knew him when he was older, I'm going to guess he was eight or so at the time. Still grunts, screams, no talking.

It's horrible that that's what his parents have turned him into. It must have killed him to leave the sea and get stuck in this so not seaside place. It didn't kill me because there was a gigantic storm to come home to and I got to see snow for the first time. He should be.... twelve right now, or just about there. I almost think I should like, track him down and see if he's gotten to a good place or if not, report the situation and try and get that kid into a place where he can learn and grow, and be involved more in life than just 'being watched'.

We both grew up by the sea and got transplanted into a landlocked area. Even if there wasn't anything we had in common, he needed to have been taken out of that situation, and Ellen 'watching him' while she  did work with him a little, he needed more than that. I don't think he's gotten it.

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