This little piggy

Yesterday one of our chickens mistook Sarah's toes for "fat little grubs."

I think that was how I put it, anyway.

She was somewhat unappreciative of the remark, but her "little piggies" put me in mind of the nursery rhyme and how, as a child, I always thought the piggy who "went to market" was going shopping.

Whether for good or ill, today's children, in our society, at least, are so far removed from many of life's nasty truths. And when they aren't, there's often no one there to help them through it.

Life certainly didn't used to offer children much protection. Just look at nursery rhyme content and you'll see that children were not only exposed to much of the worst life had to offer, but lived and breathed it as well.

I know I heard all the nursery rhymes when I was little, but don't remember my mom reading them to me. Now I see the same with my youngest child; without a younger sibling, she didn't continue to hear the rhymes, the baby book stories, or a myriad of other toddler-type offerings past their age-appropriateness. Whereas my other three retain so many more memories of these books and rhymes, songs and fairy tales, simply because they heard them so many more times than she did.

Have you ever read any of the non-sugar-coated versions of The Brothers Grimm? Oh my, I sure did. (I vaguely remember some poor soul being rolled downhill in a barrel hammered full of nails!) Zachary loved those stories, in which tortures are described, everything doesn't always end happily, and even when good triumphs over evil it's done with a good measure of vengence.

But my Zachary loved these stories, I think, in part because I was there to help interpret, when necessary; to explain, if he wanted; and to continue reading them, even if they were disturbing; he was able to digest them, embrace them, and fall head-over-heels in love with the fantasy of them, without upset, confusion, or being scared.

Because I was there, however, I also knew that Sarah definitely preferred the Disney versions, Stephen always wanted non-fiction, and Melissa loved some of each.

This is what I have loved about choosing to be a full-time mother for the last 21-plus years. I have always been here when my children needed me and when they merely wanted me. I have been able to guide them in good behavior, model appropriate manners, laugh with them, cry with them, show them what I know about the world and help them make their own discoveries. We've had that most precious of commodities: time.

There are some pretty awful things in nursery rhymes, but if I hadn't been here with my children, they might not know that "Ring around the rosies" is about the Black Death, that the little piggy, unfortunately, wasn't going to WalMart, and "Mary, Mary quite contrary," wasn't really just out weeding her garden.

Of course, I didn't share this enlightenment with them when they were 2 or 3!

But by having time with them, we didn't have to hurry through each and every day. They could think, plan, day dream, and follow their passions, unlike many children today who don't have the luxury of time.

Or a mom or dad at home with them to share it.

I've had my share of problems in this life, who hasn't?

But I wouldn't change a thing.

Though really, I never cared for "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-Eater."

But hey, it was opportunity to explain sexism.

Though I left out the part about the chastity belt.