No. 2027
Pop goes the Weasel
My nine-month old granddaughter Charlotte has an
old-fashioned jack-in-the-box — the kind they had a century ago — a brightly
coloured tin box that plays a tinkling version of Pop Goes the Weasel and
contains a garishly cheerful “jack” who pops out at just the right moment.
All Charlotte’s family just love it!
Charlotte, however, does not share our affection for this toy. At first she
just gave it a chilly stare, but the other night she let loose with the real
rage she feels towards this mindless clown. Her father, as is his wont, had
wound up the jack-in-the box and held it out towards her. It tinkled away as
usual:
Round and round the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel
The monkey said it was all in fun
POP goes the weasel!
At the point of the POP, the jack jumped up and Charlotte’s hand shot out. She grabbed that creature by the head, whipped it back and forth, box and all, like a Jack Russell terrier cracking the neck of a rat, and flung the whole thing to the floor.
It makes me smile every time I think of it. A generation ago I would probably have been shocked to see such rage unleashed by an otherwise cheerful and good-natured baby. I think I remember teaching my daughter, as my mother had taught me, that anger was an unacceptable emotion, one that should be repressed, stifled, or at the very least kept concealed. My daughter and I both feel that Charlotte should not be taught such things. We like her fierceness.
And we both know, of course, that Charlotte will one day need to learn how to identify what those fierce feelings are and to develop a vocabulary that allows her to describe them. She will have to learn how to express her feelings of anger in “socially constructive” ways. Right now she deals very directly and explicitly with the objects that enrage her. She bats at your hand when you try to stop her from grabbing a precious object, lets out a squawk when she is left to play by herself for a moment, howls when she is first put in her crib for a nap or at bedtime. Such reactions are swift and strong.
Yet she is a pleasure to be around, and she very quickly settles into an acceptance of what must be. She may shriek when she runs into opposition, but for the most part she is sunny-natured. Like the little girl in the verse attributed to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “When she is good she is very, very good …”
Charlotte, like most other humans, will learn to recognize those things that provoke feelings of anger in her, will develop appropriate ways of expressing anger, and find non-aggressive ways of pursuing and protecting what is important to her. As she matures she will use memory, reflection and words to assist her in understanding and managing anger. Like the rest of us, she’ll learn.
But I hope that in the process she doesn’t lose that fine, clear passion. That direct, intense passion of a creature who lives absolutely in the present moment and responds with a simple and necessary immediacy to the events of her world. Recently I was walking her around the living room — or to be more accurate she was leading me around — and I watched her delight in her new mobility. (Although she can’t walk independently, she only needs a couple of hands to hold on to — even one hand will do — and she is then in command of the whole apartment.) Hearing familiar voices emerging from her bedroom, she led me down the hall and through the door into a configuration that was obviously designed to end her day: her father standing by the crib and her mother by the change table, holding a fresh diaper. Charlotte sized up the situation, saw how she had foiled herself, and gave a howl of protest which continued until she was settled in her crib for the night.
How intensely she wanted the day to continue! I thought of Dylan Thomas’s,
Do not go gentle into that
good night
Rage, rage against the
dying of the light.
Charlotte does not receive anyone’s “goodnights” with gentleness. She makes her protest well known, and only then accepts the ministrations of her parents and settles down for the night.
Why does her furious spirit give me so much pleasure? Why was I so delighted about the episode with the jack-in-the- box? I expect it’s because of my worry about the world that Charlotte has to grow up in. We’re now seeing much of the social fabric we took so for granted when I was young, and when my daughter was Charlotte’s age, being ripped apart. There is an enormous values change out there which suggests that it’s everyone for himself, or herself. There is a culture which values individualism and avarice over community and sharing. Our politicians talk about “a new era,” and it is a frightening one. They talk about industry, business, the economy. They talk about accountability and deliverables and productivity. They talk about the marketplace. They talk in weasel words, using oxymorons like market values, smart bombs, military intelligence. They do not speak of communities, relationships, and social capital.
I want my granddaughter to grow up with some of the humanitarian ideas about good citizenship that have been passed down for centuries. Knowing her parents, I have confidence that Charlotte will develop solid and strong values, but I also realize that it will be a struggle for her to keep them in this fractured world. She will have to maintain a passion that allows her to know what she wants and strengthens her to fight for her beliefs.
Pop goes the weasel, I say. It’s a tough world. There are a lot of weasels out there, Charlotte. You go after them!
CAROL MATTHEWS
Relational Child and Youth Care Practice Volume 16 Number 3, pp.
15-16
