in and out
My mother enjoys buying my sister and I old Betty Crocker cookbooks -- my enthusiasm for '50s and '60s kitsch appears to be genetic -- and the other day I left a copy of the 1959 classic Betty Crocker's Guide to Easy Entertaining: How to Have Guests--and Enjoy Them sitting on the dining room table after perusing it during lunch. The 7-year-old found it yesterday and, intrigued, sat down to read the introductory sections on issuing invitations. Shortly thereafter I received a handwritten missive on carefully trimmed red construction paper, dated May 23 and inquiring whether the other half and I could "come over and help us celebrate Panda's 1st birthday on May 29th at 5:41? I would be very happy if you could. I think the Meow family is coming." Each of these elements took careful heed of the instructions Betty had provided for clear, polite invitations.
It's not news to note that this kid pays careful attention. She hasn't missed much since, well, birth. This little episode with Betty indicates, however, just how deeply she is influenced by what she sees and reads -- and, consequently, what I leave lying around for her to experience. She takes her cues from me. This week, evidently, it's resulted in an etiquette lesson. Next time, who knows? It's a useful reminder that what goes in, comes back out. If she takes her cues from me and what she sees me doing, I'd better pay careful heed to what I'm putting into myself.
It's not news to note that this kid pays careful attention. She hasn't missed much since, well, birth. This little episode with Betty indicates, however, just how deeply she is influenced by what she sees and reads -- and, consequently, what I leave lying around for her to experience. She takes her cues from me. This week, evidently, it's resulted in an etiquette lesson. Next time, who knows? It's a useful reminder that what goes in, comes back out. If she takes her cues from me and what she sees me doing, I'd better pay careful heed to what I'm putting into myself.
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