It was the perfect row of white teeth that first tripped me up. Specifically, the maxilla of a deer skull. Herbivore molars.
Last spring, we visited Martin’s parents at their place in deep cottage country. At some point during the weekend, the children, my father-in-law, and I went for a long walk in the woods. It was a spectacular day, full of crisp nature-y air, blah, blah, blah, and thank goodness I happened to look down when I did, because I came thisclose to stepping on half a deer skeleton, which had been bleached by the sun into near pristine whiteness. The skull lay in the leaves just where I was about to step down.
Gross.
So while I was busy chanting a litany of ohmygods in my head, Oliver’s hands were tightly clasped together under his chin, and he was practically squealing, already wondering aloud where he could find a box to put all the bones in. So we could take them home. To our house.
Rewind.
“Um, Oliver? I don’t think we can take these bones home with us.” I mean, really. Can you imagine?
“Why NOT?! They’re so COOL! And look, that’s probably a leg bone… is it? And look at this cool one…” he says, picking up one after the other, turning them this way and that, in the light.
I closed my eyes and looked to the heavens, and wondered why the baby Jesus hates me this hard.
“Well, I know they’re kinda cool, but really… what are we going to do with them? We can’t just have a box of bones hanging around the house – I don’t care WHAT they came from. No. Just… no.”
He looked positively crest-fallen. His shoulders slumped and he gave me the stink-eye. You know – malocchio. It’s the you’rethemeanestmummyever look. Like, if he could put a pox on me, he totally would. I hate that look. Oy.
“Okay! OKAY!!” I said quickly, with my hands in the air. Helpless. He practically sprinted back to the house to find the perfect box. Which he found. Crap.
I was certain hoped he would forget about the bones eventually. I’ve never had a six-year-old boy before, so I had no idea how relentless they can be about the stuff they want. They never forget a thing – they never miss a trick.
He asked me what we were going to do with the bones. Where we could put them. Can we polish them? Even though we left the box of bones in the back stairs of the basement, next to the stack of winter tires and other off-season stuff, where he never saw them or rarely visited them, he never forgot them. He asked me about them. Constantly.
“Listen. Maybe if I can find a shadow box in the right size, we can display one or two of them. I’ll see what I can find, okay?”
“Yes, but what about the skull? We have to shadowy box the skull – it’s the best part!”
“Shadow box. Well, I’m not sure I can find one deep enough for that part…” And was I ready to have the skull of a dead animal mounted on the wall in my house? Ew.
He asked. And he asked. And he asked. If he saw shopping bags from anywhere different than the grocery store, he’d ask me again. “Mummy? Did you find a… a shadow boxer for my bones yet?”
“Shadow box. And no, not yet. I’m still looking.”
“You promised.” He said this with such a solomn face, it broke my heart. Seriousness in six-year-olds is nothing to be trifled with.
I looked right into his brown eyes. “I know I promised. I know. I’m on it, I swear.”
And so, last weekend, I finally hung the bones. And dare I say it, they look kinda awesome:
He was COMPLETELY thrilled by the finished effect. He said how much he loved them – especially the skull – and he smiled and smiled. But I knew what he’d ask next:
“But what about the other bones?”
“Indeed, what about the other bones?!”
“Well, are we going to, um, box shadow them?”
“Shadow. Box. It’s a shadow box. Um, well, I think a few bones like this… is enough, don’t you? Any more in here…” I made a sweeping gesture to the rest of the room “…would be… just a bit… creepy, you know?” I crossed my fingers, hoping for understanding. “It’d be a bit weird.”
He nodded in agreement, but adds that he wants to keep the bones all the same, and not throw them in the garbage like I’d suggested. That was fair. (But, they’ll remain in the back stairs…)
And so, now we have bones on the wall. The whiter sides of the bones (the sides facing the sun and the elements) are not the sides we see in the box and on the wall, but rather their earthier, ground-side counterparts. They’re the sides he likes better anyway. He says that’s what makes them look like bones.
As long as he’s happy, right? And I kept my promise. Score: 1 for mummy!!
Got any promises you just HAD to live up to? I’d love to know if anyone else has proverbial bones on their walls too…
Glad I could make you laugh, lady…!
Ok that malocchio part was too hilarious! I thought only us Italians knew that term 😉
You’re kind Amreen!! And I guess our kids are the same ages… that’ll be handy when we all hang out someday, perhaps apres-skiing? 🙂
Alice, that’s so funny – someone else just asked me about a bone mobile the other day. That would be a weird business…
You are a fabulous mom! When i first read that you were going to put them up, I was a little freaked out. But when i saw the pictures, there is a haunting beauty to the bones and you’ve displayed them very beautifully. Not goth at all!
I have a 7-yr old and his fascination with the mildly grotesque never ceases to surprise me.
Yeah – the pics!! I think I sized them each at 225, left aligned with no text, and put maybe 2 or 3 spaces before the second pic, then did the same on the next line… does that make sense? I’m really awful at Moveable Type – no joke – I feel like anything that works is purely a fluke. :/
*pants* Extra points?! You KNOW how I crave the extra points… THANKS!! And actually, he turns seven today. Holy smokes, time flies…
Just in time for a “farts & craps” collection, wouldn’t you say? 😉
Just you wait, Jen… I will direct you to the shadow box section in the picture frame aisle of Winners/TJ Maxx when your time comes. And it WILL be here before you know it…
Sadly, the skull is his favourite thing EVER, so it has to stay. At least I can’t see it from the hallway. Ack.
Honestly, I would find the bones cool, too – I have a tiny little rodent skull from when i was a kid somewhere still, I think. I love them in the shadow box!
Of course, my mom made me a mobile out of chicken bones when I was a baby – hey, maybe that’s an idea for you? Okay, joking. Still, good for you for meeting him in the middle.
oh god…note to self…no hiking in the woods
YOU ROCK! So awesome – and yes – how in eff did you get the pics like that??
I always wanted girls but have lamented often that I never got a boy. Maybe one that would always remain 8 years old (some might argue all men are forever8) – this is one of those moments. How darling and you did a stylish thing with the bag of bones. Well done. Extra points for you!
YES THIS! THE PERFECT FOUR PICTURES!
I am having serious angst with my blog pictures lately.
Yes! He is related to me.
I am laughing SO HARD right now. SO HARD. I can just see his little face. Although I’m sure my payback will come when Chase starts to lobby for his dad to have mounted animals in our home. I have to say the box shadowed bones do look really nice (but the skull has to go).
Well…they do go with the nature theme of the room. I dig it!
I smiled as I pictured you climbing up onto the top bunk to snap that pic.
(and how in hell do you post all 4 photos in a perfect square like that???)
Martha would probably bitch that the box was too small, and that the bones are not centred in the frame. And then I’d fry her with my death-rays… 😉
i wonder what martha would say? 🙂