What you want
The two things (other than building a large purple rabbit) that Helena wanted to do to celebrate starting school were ice cream and a trip to the carousel. Yesterday we had Bassett’s ice cream cones at Reading Terminal: Helena had vanilla and Daniel had double chocolate chip with chocolate sprinkles (see a pattern there?). Today, therefore, we headed to the carousel.
It’s just a carousel in a mall (although a very nice one, note the second level and Venetian art work). When I first saw it I was
stunned and amazed — a carousel in a shopping mall? What genius! How incredible! I’m flabbergasted! and other interjections. Since then, of course, I’ve discovered how incredibly common it is to find carousels, miniature trains, miniature golf courses and even teeny bumper cars in malls. Very interesting juxtaposition of old fashioned fairground and capitalist playground… but I digress.
Helena has never enjoyed going round and round or being on swings. Probably some sort of inner ear thing but as she is the second child, this is readily chalked up to the broad sweep of human personalities so who knows really why she doesn’t like swinging. So I was surprised by her request and a little hesitant to cart her off to the carousel. But she insisted so off we went.
She chatted merrily in the car about going to the carousel and how much fun it would be and whether she would ride a horse or sit in the boat. As we walked towards it, however, she started to shake: obviously and dramatically, her whole body juddering and her face white and worried. I swept her up and felt her trembling. “Mommy,” she whispered, “I don’t really want to go on the carousel.”
The enormous gap between what she thought she wanted and what she really wanted is very interesting. It would be overly simple to say: she’s only two — how can she know what she wants? That might be true, but thinking we want things we really don’t is a foible not limited to two year olds. I often think I want six scoops of pralines and cream when I will get sick after two. I fool myself into thinking I’m a laid-back and intrepid traveller when I really like predictability. Ed always underestimates (by about half) how much time he needs to finish a particular project. Daniel thinks he wants to play t-ball but all he really wants to do is hug his friend and wear an enormous t-shirt with a number on it.
Of course, pushing our boundaries is a good thing. Sometimes it’s right to get on the carousel even if you’re scared or to cut all your hair off or to move to another country. Sometimes it’s right to swim further than you think you can. But it’s also good to know who you really are and to know what works for you, even if it seems a bit weird or old fogeyish. And finding out who you are, where your limits are, has got to be the basis of growing up.
So I no longer order huge amounts of ice cream and I know that I’d much prefer to go on a walking holiday in the Lake District than take the Trans-Siberian express through Mongolia. I’m okay with my limits, with saying, I’d like that to be “me,” but silver lame hot pants are just not my style (but I’m willing to try on that halter top over there…) Knowing what you actually want, as opposed to what you wish you wanted, is very liberating.
Helena was fine in the end. We sat and waved at Daniel (from a safe distance). “I like waving,” she said. And this time she was right.
But I know what I want when embarking on a project – I want it to be over in time x. I then double x to get my estimate of how long it should take, call it time y. If in fact it takes 2y (or 4x), that doesn’t alter the fact that I would have been happier with x. It’s more a question of a resistant universe…
Helena has enjoyed a small, slow roundabout recently, which is probably why she thought she wanted to go for the big time. But she does indeed like waving