by cheri block
I had lunch with my daughter yesterday.
She had big news for me.
“Thanks to you,” she said, “Noah wants a Greek myths themed birthday part next month. Look what you have started,” she said.
Noah is a second grader and will turn eight in May.
“I tried to talk him in to a Harry Potter party,” she shared.
“What did he say about that?” I queried.
“I’m over Harry Potter,” he said. (Noah has burned through all of the Harry Potter books.)
“Then, I suggested a Percy Jackson party, but he rejected that idea as well.”(Noah is now on book four of the Percy Jackson series.)
“I want the real Greek Gods from the real myths, ” Noah had insisted. (That’s my boy.)
I started reading Greek myths to Noah when he was about four years old. Each Monday, when I would care for him while his mother taught writing, I read him a different myth. From Persephone to Polyphemus, Noah and I read and reread the myths.
When he asked if he could watch a television show, I said, ” No, let’s keep reading and by the way, someday, sooner than you think, these myths will become relevant to you. Trust me, Noah. I am your grandmother and a teacher. Do you believe me?”
He always nodded perfunctorily though doubt lingered on his brow. I pressed on. We flew up to Mt. Olympus and descended into Hades. “No, you probably wouldn’t pet Cerberus, ” I answered.
“I’m not sure why Pandora had Hope fly out of the box last,” I shrugged.
“Maybe Zeus did know that Prometheus had stolen fire,” I conceded.
And the questions and answers rolled in, like the gentle waves of the Mediterranean.
I will be in Prague when Noah hosts his Greek myths birthday party, but such a distance will not stop Skype.
Let’s see now, who shall I be?