Me: “Now, sometimes your fingers might hurt when you play the guitar, but that pain fades–”
Billie: “I’ve already been feeling the pain. But I just ignore it.”
Me: “Oh, yea?”
Billie: “Yea. Because the pain doesn’t matter if it means I can make music.”
My niece, Caliope, is 4 years old and crying hysterically about being the youngest in the group of kids.
Calliope: “But I don’t wanna be the youngest!!! I wanna be the oldest!!”
Billie: “Don’t worry about being the youngest. That’s better, honestly. The oldest dies first, anyway.”
Doug: “I know this has been a long car ride, Billie. And it’s gotta be hard being in the backseat–”
Billie: “IT’S REALLY HARD! I DON’T LIKE IT BACK HERE. I would rather be anywhere else than back here. I would rather EAT A NAKED MAN!!”
Doug: “Whoa whoa whoa, you don’t gotta do all that–”
Me: “Nah, I say go for it, Billie. We are in the pouring rain in dead stop traffic on the 5 freeway. If you find a naked man out here go ahead and eat him.”
Doug: “Hezzie, no–”
Me: “But bring a sharp knife. I imagine it’s gunna get gamey.”
Doug: “Seriously??”
Billie: “YAY! I’M ON THE HUNT FOR NAKED MEN!!!”
…whoops.
Billie: “Daaaaaad! I think I swallowed poison!”
Doug: “Why do you think that?”
Billie: “Because I just gulped and the air felt heavy in my throat.”
Doug: “I mean, did you take a pill?”
Billie: “No.”
Doug: “Was there a bottle that had ‘XXX’ on it?”
Billie: “No.”
Doug: “Did you see a skull and crossbones anywhere?”
Billie: “No. But it just feels heavy sometimes when I get sad.”
Me: “It’s the patriarchy. She swallowed the patriarchy.”
Doug: “Hezzie, you’re not helping.”
Me: “Just think of your right to vote and take deep breaths, Billie. You’ll be alright.”
Doug: “Damnit, Hezzie–”
Billie: “…I get to vote I get to vote I get to vote…”
While singing “there was an old lady who swallowed a fly:”
Me: “There was an old lady who swallowed a spider. It wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside her–”
Billie: “Oooh! How about: ‘There was an old lady who swallowed a dinosaur. it made her vagina sore to swallow that dinosaur-‘”
Me: “BILLIE.”
Billie: “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Me: “Well, technically that’s a slant rhyme. But it’s imaginative and probably physically accurate so I’ll allow it.”
Outside the restaurant we just ate at, there were two girls painting winter themed pokemon onto the front window. Billie left her seat multiple times to go out and study them. When we finally left, I said goodbye to the ladies and thanked them for being some of Billie’s favorite artists
“Actually, you’re not my favorite artists,” Billie countered, “Leonardo is.”
The girls just stared at her.
“And not the Ninja turtle, either. The painter and inventor Leonardo. Da Vinci? Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
At this point the girls laughed.
“Well, that’s a good one!” One of them said.
“Yup.” Said Billie, “You’re a close second, tho!”
I’m sure Mr. da Vinci will be quite pleased to know that his work is in close competition with Pikachu in a Santa hat.
November 19th is Billie Day.
And, on Billie Day, Billie’s stuffed animals come to life and throw her a party.
It’s happened every year since she was 2 years old and her mother figured out that, while Billie had trouble making friends of the human variety, she had no trouble at all being besties with her stuffed animals.
Billie’s birthdays have usually been lonely. We moved a lot and she is an only child. But she never minded because she always had her stuffed animals. Each one had a different name, lifestyle, and backstory. I have never seen a child connect with their toys the way Billie did with hers.
Thus Billie Day.
They come to life, wreck her room, give her presents, and write her notes of encouragment.
And, to Billie, this only makes sense.
Because of course they do.
They are, after all, real.
Real in the way they love her. Real in the way they provide her safety and shelter. Real in the way that they are her friends. Her true friends.
So this year the tradition continues. And I worry that it may be the last year.
Tomorrow she will have her first ever birthday party.
With other kids coming over.
Other humans with whom she (finally) shares a connection.
And I’m super stoked.
But a small part of me hopes that, despite her growth and newfound human connection, her stuffed animals will come to life next year.
If only because that kind of love is still real. To me.
Happy birthday, Billie.
Your mother loves you.
Billie: “Hey! Guys! Wanna hear my Halloween chant? It goes:
Trick or treat
It’s Halloween
Give me some caaaandy
If you don’t
Then I swear
I’ll pull down my underwear!”
Me: “Wait, what?”
Doug: “You’re pulling down your own underwear?”
Me: “But, like, why?”
Billie: “That’s the chant! That’s how it goes!”
Me: “That’s not the way the chant went when I was a kid.”
Doug: “Yea, wasn’t there a ‘smell my feet’ thing?”
Me: “And you definitely didn’t pull down your own pants in our chant. Like, ‘hey! You didn’t give me candy! Now check out my panties!’ I’m just not getting it.”
Billie: “Guys. That’s how it goes.”
Doug: “No, man. My undies are show stoppers not Gobstoppers!”
Me: “I want some Starbursts- not to show you my full moon!”
Billie: “Guys. Stop.”
Me: “It’s Sweet Tarts not sweet farts.”
Doug: “I want a Kit Kat not to show you my kitty cat.”
Billie: “Seriously?? I’m done with you two.”
Billie: “WHO WANTS TO PLAY A REALLY COOL, NEW, FUN GAME I JUST MADE UP!!?”
Mary (6): “MEEE!!!”
Darin (5): “MEEE!!!”
Brian (8): “Depends. What’s it about?”
Billie: “It’s called, ‘Don’t you wanna die?’ It’ll be super fun, I promise!”
…Props to Brian for getting the details before committing, I guess…
Billie: “I just hate everyone. I hate them all.”
“Hate is a really strong word. And a powerful one. It’s the kind of word that can really blacken your heart. Are you sure that’s the word you want to use?”
Billie: “Ugh. Fine. Will it blacken my heart if I spell it? I H-A-T-E them.”
“Yea, dude. Still means the same thing.”
Billie: “Then why does this word even exist if you cant use it?”
“Well, it exists because it’s real. “Hate’ indicates a super strong dislike for something that really consumes you. And people can and do use it. And, when they use it against other living things it has the potential to destroy. Hate is what some people used to justify enslaving others. Hate is what makes people walk into schools and shoot up playgrounds. Hate is a very dark thing that can cripple your heart if you let it.”
Billie: “Is my heart broken now because I said ‘hate?’ Did I just break my own heart? Can I fix it??”
“Oh, for sure. The heart is incredibly resilient. And love and patience and understanding can totally drive it out and fix it.”
Billie: “I feel bad that I said ‘hate.’ I feel bad that I felt it.”
“You felt a human emotion, just like everyone else. And the best piece of advice I ever got was to try and judge yourself on your second thought. Your first thought is a reflex- it can be what society trained you to believe or what your darkest thoughts want you to believe. But it’s your second thought that determines who you are. If you think, ‘I hate them’ but then you follow it up with, ‘Ahg! No! Hate is bad. But I really dislike them and I gotta find a way to fix this and make it better’ then I daresay you’re on the right path. You’re doing good work. Just keep working.”
Billie: “So I’m not crazy?”
“You’re one of the most brilliant people I know. Crazy is relative.”
Billie: “I’m going to just take that as a ‘No, Billie. You’re not crazy. You’re awesome.'”
“You should definitely do that.”
Aye.
I call this exchange: “Channeling My Inner Dumbledore.”
Billie's Momma 