Tuesday, June 29, 1997: I watch Drew (age six) at school. Some little boy says, “My picture is way better than yours, Drew.” She just shrugs and returns to her seat. Later I ask her about the incident. “Did you feel bad when he said that?” “No. My picture was good.” I want to make a competition out of this. “Is he a naughty boy?” “No, usually he’s nice.”
Wednesday, June 18, 1998: Drew (age seven) and I go and get some groceries. I check the shopping list. “Did we get bananas?” “Yes," she replies. "We have no bananas.”
Wednesday, Nov. 4, 1998: Taking Sarah late to school. We find a bunch of students coming down the hall toward us, including Drew, who stops her sister. “Sarah! You’re student of the month!” A typically thoughtful gesture—she didn’t even mention that she was the student of the month too.
Sunday, October 8, 2000: Drew (age nine) sees the Mormon Tabernacle Choir ladies in their red gowns. “They look like heads floating in a sea of blood.”
Friday, October 20, 2000: Almost everyone is sick. Drew moans and groans and makes me wonder how she’ll deal with childbirth. She succumbs, and not very courageously. “Did you just throw up on the couch?” I ask her. “No,” is her bleary, string-haired, barf-faced, pillow-sodden answer.
Sunday, March 25, 2001: Drew (age ten) is beating Sarah up. Sarah holds a picture of Jesus up to her face and bellows: “thou shalt not hit thy sister!”
Sunday, December 9, 2001: Drew has a problem, and wonders if I can help her. “Dad, can you tie stones to Caitlin’s limbs and throw her in a lake?” “No, Drew, I’d be damned eternally.” “So?”
Wednesday, February 27, 2002: To Drew’s b-ball game. She gets four points right off, on a lay up and a long shot. She hustles like crazy. She fouls most everyone. “I really like covering short people,” she says.
Saturday, August 31, 2002: Drew (age eleven) directs a movie and does it like Charlie Chaplin, which is to say that she tells everyone exactly what to do, and how, and when. Of course that doesn’t always work with kids. Mind you she's not a complete autocrat; she likes to leave the camera running when Caitlin’s on, because you never know what a great actor is going to do. Matt, as Lord Worthington, refuses to let Spence kill him with his sword. “Oh, my gosh!” says neighbour Sadie, struggling to stay in medieval character.
Tuesday, February 3, 2004: We go to Drew’s (age twelve) school for her SEOP conference. She has made a pretty impressive, practically comprehensive self assessment. It's revealing, sometimes surprising, and really quite lovely.
"An unusual thing I’ve done is going to London twice. I feel good when I get a state cut in swimming. I’ve always wanted to visit Australia. I want to scuba. I admire my parents.
"I am frustrated by messes and dirty children. Not to brag, but I'm good at the cello and spelling. I feel that knowledge is important because it makes you money.
"Strengths: decisiveness, responsibility, sensitivity and leadership. Values that I value: power, fitness, appearance, achievement, knowledge, justice, health and family. I feel that I am intelligent, creative, literate, musical, physically able.
"Three descriptive words: short tempered, bossy and smart. To Kill a Mockingbird is my favourite book.
"Goals: graduate from college, work at a zoo for a summer and get married.
"Things I am good at: acting, backpacking, being alone, being funny, being on time, being responsible. I am sensitive, good at choosing friends, chewing gum, choosing good books, colouring inside the lines, concentrating, daydreaming, dealing with emergencies, decorating the house, doing homework, doing well on tests.
"I am good at exercising regularly, finishing things, getting good grades, getting to school on time, having fun with cousins, imagining, listening to music, memorizing commercials and songs, playing in the orchestra, volleyball, reading fast, singing, sledding, spelling, swimming fast like a frog, taking tests, tending babies, using big words, writing creative stories."
The post is getting too long, and this is just the very tip of a very big iceberg. We'll leave it at that, but you get the idea; happy birthday, dear Drew.
