A Little Boy and a Dirty Dog
Several weeks ago, I shared my children’s books with an Early Childhood Language and Literacy Experiences class at Mitchell Community College in Mooresville, NC. That night, I read my first book, Tired of My Bath. A few days later, one of the students in the class, Decota Rasnick, sent me an email explaining what happened when she got home later that night. I was so touched by her email; I asked permission to share.
First and foremost, thank you for coming to speak (and read) to our class last night at Mitchell Community College! It was so nice learning about you and your books!
You truly are an inspiration to others! I thought I would share a little story about what happened after class, and hearing you speak.
Last night, after I finally got home from work and school (Tuesdays are my “bad” day. I work all day, and then go to school, and usually do not get home until around 8:15 or so, which means my kids are either already in bed, or cranky and waiting on me to put them down) my son and I let our dog (a pitbull) outside one last time before bedtime. Link, our dog, is not a “digger.” He only digs on very rare occasions, and when he does spend the time digging (or the few times that he has in the past couple of years), he usually surfaces, very proudly, with some sort of prize.
Being late, and as muddy as it was last night, as soon as we realized he was digging we made him stop and come back inside; however, it was not soon enough to prevent having to put him into the bath tub and give him a bath. There was mud everywhere! Fortunately, our dog does well in the bath. Link sits very still and rarely tries to escape. Between attempting to get my dog clean, and having to work around my son, Rylan, (who is four now, and clearly in that stage of wanting, and thinking he can do everything that any adult does, on his own, without any help) I managed to snap a picture.
Although I am not sure how I even found the energy, or the time, last night to scroll through my Facebook, I ended up posting the picture of my son and his dog in the bath. Not anything too surprising, except for the tiny little poem I posted to caption the picture. It read:
“…Because when your dog decides its time to dig to China, it might be late at night, and you might [just might] have to bathe him, much against his delight…”
Although posting the picture was not out of character for me, taking the time, or even subconsciously thinking about posting the tiny little poem was out of character, and something I quite frankly, just do not usually take the time to do. The normal description would have been something like, “Bath Time.”
You, and your discussion with our class inspired this, and I just wanted to thank you. When I go back and read the poem I wrote last night, the memories are much more clear. The imagery and scenes in my head are much clearer, and I can remember so much more about the entire situation, because I chose to change the perspective in which I was looking at the situation.
I found it entirely coincidental that we just happened to have read your book, Tired of My Bath. At 10 pm last night, I was faced with a very dirty dog, and a very independent four year old (who at the time was really just “getting in my way”). Very quickly, I started thinking about the book, and the lesson…. this is life, and this is my life. While I was drained, and “tired” of the day in general, thinking about your talk, your books, and your lessons made me (at 23 years old) rethink the situation, and ended up very happy and smiling at the memories we made (even at 10 pm on my “bad” night). I could have looked at the situation in a negative way, but didn’t. I mean, really who wants to give their (very large) dog a bath at 10 pm after they have been at work/school for well over 12 hours?
Again, thank you so much for your time! I am looking forward to reading your books to my children (I have two boys, ages 4 and 1), and following you on Facebook, as well as your blog.
Decota, thank you for your email and for making my day. Writing a book is only the beginning. Hearing stories like yours is what makes being an author so rewarding.