Once, he believed he was meant to be an Eskimo. Don’t blame him for using the supposedly pejorative word for the indigenous people of the circumpolar region. He was only five. I was not even remotely inclined to have him use Inuit/Inupiat – Yupik – Aleut. Even for him, that would have been a wee bit too difficult. And moreover, he liked the sound of the word. He loved to manipulate it, as if it was his personal mantra.
Es Ki Mo
Mo Ki Es
Ki Mo Es
In his imagination, Eskimos had the coolest life on earth. Even better than knights fighting dragons or clowns in a circus.
(1) They get snow every single day. And their iglo’s look way better than his’ ever do.
(2) They live in the quitest place on earth. A place where noisy panthers wouldn’t thrive.
(3) They get to wear furry hats all the time. So they must feel very safe and comfortable.
(4) They are not obliged to do anything. Everyone just leaves them alone.
Well wasn’t that a nice reflection of his wellbeing. Even now he’s seven, it still adds up.
(1) He likes water in all of its forms, but the frozen ones are his favourite. He couldn’t have been happier last winter, when snow still piled up in March. And maybe even in April.
(2) He can’t filter info when there’s too much input. Noise, especially sisterly noise, will be the number one filter blockage. Although I might add that television would be the runner up, but he won’t agree.
(3) He is cuddly. He craves for safety. Safety, Shelter and Security. Craving for confirmation is not exclusive for adoptees, so it seems.
(4) He is already half a teenager, if you count it in years. It won’t take long before he enters the door slamming phase, I’m sure.
He was disappointed though, when he found out Eskimo’s don’t really live at the North Pole. He couldn’t quite understand that it isn’t even a country, nor a continent. And he was devastated when he heard about the melting going on.
Sometimes I believe children shouldn’t have to worry about those things. Especially Eskimo-kids, who pile up the world’s sorrow in their fragile filters. I’m not keen on hiding the truth from children. But there should be some balance between avoiding ignorance and guarding innocence.
Anyway, he’s not to be underestimated. He’s eternally optimistic, as all children should be. Because, you know, the South Pole is and will remain a continent. Albeit not covered in snow and ice, it will more or less remain.
So after some days of reflection, he admitted the whole failed-Eskimo-reincarnation idea was a mistake. A small one. He was not too far off.
Forget about the North Pole. Forget about Eskimos. Eskimos are still humans. They have obligations and stuff. No, he was meant to be a South Pole Penguin, so he told me.
I couldn’t agree more.
A glacier sliding snugly Penguin with empire ambitions, living at the coolest place on earth.
That would be my pale little guy.