I’m at the coffee shop. I just dropped the boys off at school. JT was not happy to be there after a week home sick. He looked up at me with his little tear streaked face and repeatedly asked for, “up.” 

 

The boys have been in school long enough for me to be OK leaving them with the occasional tear in their eye. What I can’t shake is the look JT gave me as I left the classroom. I’m sure I’ve seen it before.

 

Mami and I are both very expressive people and we have no shortage of looks that we can use on the boys under different circumstances.  I've grouped them into collections.

 

For example, there is the, I Love You Collection, which includes the “I’m so proud of you that I could cry” look (complete with watery eyes and stiff upper lip) and the “He’s a chip of the old block” look (tilt the head, give a light smile and take a deep sigh of satisfaction). It might also include a more mischievous look like, “Go ahead and do it,” as in “Go ahead an drop the ice down Mami’s blouse.”

 

There are heavier looks for more serious occasions. You can find examples in the, Don’t Even Collection (best pronounced, “Don’t Eeeeeven”).   This collection includes such necessary looks as “Don’t even think about putting the spaghetti on your brother’s head”             and “Don’t even throw the spoon in the restaurant for the fifth time.” 

 

As parents we often find that a look is necessary after the fact. Luckily, we have the three-in-one I Can’t Believe Collection. Here you can find, “I can’t believe...you did that,” “I can’t believe...you said that” and “I can’t believe... you ate that.” 

 

Of all the looks available perhaps the most famous is the Death Stare (not to be confused with Death Star). It’s that parent look that strikes terror in the hearts of children through out the world; accept of course those children belonging to parents who have perfected the Art of Zen Parenting (those parents are from Mars and are not part of this discussion).

 

For the rest of us, the Death Stare is that look we remember getting from our own parents for any number of reasons. 

 

It had the power to stop a toy action figure in midair before it struck its intended target- the side of your little brother’s head.  Or it might be that look that said, “You must think I’m already dead, because I’d have to be dead before I let you walk out of this house wearing that skirt!”  

 

The Death Stare is something perfected over generations and eventually handed down from parent to child. I remember the day my father was ready to pass his Death Stare down to me. 

 

“Son,” he said, “you don’t yet understand the power of what I’m about to give you. But someday you too will succeed in scaring the chones (underwear) off of your unsuspecting offspring using just this look.” (Dramatic license was used in the above anecdote in order to incorporate the word “chones”).

 

There is no doubt that a good look can speak volumes.   And, as one of two parents who can occasionally over-talk to their kids, a good look can help keep things simple. 

 

What I’m struggling with today is the realization that I don’t have a suitable defense when one of my own looks is used against me. And that is what just happened.

 

The reason the look JT gave me this morning seemed familiar was because it was one of mine. He gave me a look that was clearly from the, I Can’t Believe Collection. 

 

I know JT is familiar with this collection of looks because we’ve used it in situations like, “JT, I can’t believe you can get your finger that far up your nose.” 

 

And I’m sure he’s seen Mami use it, as in, “Papi, I can’t believe you forgot to pick up the kids from school, again.” But that’s another story.

 

When I saw one of my looks being used on me I was momentarily stunned. That moment of confusion can be dangerous. If I’m in a debate with Q about why he should clean his room or why walking on the wet lawn in his socks is not a good idea, I can’t afford to be thrown off or stunned for even a second. That’s all they need before they go for the proverbial jugular. 

 

Seeing one of my looks used on me left me wondering if I’ve misused my powers in the past. Have I inadvertently given the kids tools they’re not ready for? 

 

What if they’ve already gotten hold of my Death Stare but don’t use it until their teenagers? As a teenager I got a hold of my parents Death Stare once and used it on my mother. Mom’s reaction was not pretty. 

 

I can only imagine a house with two teenage boys and an unchecked arsenal of looks. And I’m not just talking about the darker ones.  

 

Q can already use of the doe-eyed, I love you, Mami, look. He uses it when he’s fighting with JT and just before Mami’s about to hand out a vicious serving of time-outs. She’s almost defenseless against it.

 

Of all the looks available to us the one I have worked hardest to keep in check is the I Told You So look. This is one of the most dangerous. It can sneak out unchecked when Q or JT have an accident or make a mistake after being repeatedly warned. 

 

I can see Q searching my face for this look more and more these days. It’s a look that can communicate disapproval and disappointment. If there is a look I’d like to do away with, this would be the one. I know how valuable my parents’ approval is and I don’t want Q learning that gaining my approval is an impossible task. 

 

There is no question that a good look can speak volumes. And they are great when a parent is simply tired of talking. They say that 60 to 70 percent of meaning comes from body language (who ever they are). That makes looks very powerful. 

 

As someone who supports the idea of speaking more than one language I understand that my kids will inevitably learn to speak this language of looks.  I just want to be careful that things aren’t lost in translation. 

 

DiggyDaddy