Are They Really A Series of Unfortunate Events?

A young family in our neighborhood recently had to vacate their house due to a mold problem. The mold had settled in their HVAC system and for many months had been pumped into all corners of their house, contaminating virtually everything. Watching over the course of a week as workers from the remediation company gutted their home was heart-breaking.

Curiously, a couple of our own family members are dealing with smaller versions of the issue as condensation from HVAC ductwork has caused staining, sagging, and even some areas of mold and mildew to appear on ceiling drywall and near vents. The slow, extended nature of such issues makes them particularly tricky to recognize until damage has been done; fixing the issue is just the beginning as clean-up and repairs can be extensive and expensive.

In the 2004 movie, A Series of Unfortunate Events, the three young Baudelaire children are found on a beach and notified by stranger of a “most unfortunate event” which he goes on to say is the death of their parents in a fire. Of course, the gross understatement is itself a key element of this dark but entertaining tale that pits the three orphans against a scheming relative (played brilliantly by Jim Carrey) who is after the fortune of their parents. The story centers on a series of increasingly outlandish efforts by Carrey’s character, Count Olaf, to secure guardianship of and then manufacturer various “accidents” to eliminate the children and give him their inheritance.

The movie follows the children’s uncanny ability to outsmart and outmaneuver the Count despite the inability of the various adult guardians, neighbors, and relatives, to see his nefarious motives. To get close to the children, the Count uses a host of disguises, fooling the adults in the story, but never fooling the children, who struggle to get anyone to believe the crazy stories they’re telling.

Watching this movie with my own grandchildren last night night, I caught a glimpse of myself in those adults around the Baudelaire children. Now 48 hours into full-time hosting five of our very young grandchildren while their parents are away, my eyes have been opened, or should I say re-opened, to the many blindspots of my adulthood. Here are just a few of them:

1. Children see, hear, and remember, way more than you realize. When it comes to children, know that every comment, story, joke, side-glance, promise, and negotiation, has been written down, recorded, archived, and backed-up in those little machine minds. No AI needed here, they have an immense capacity to consume everything, possibly even those things you are only thinking, and then repeat it back to you when you least expect it.
2. Energy is only a scare resource for adults. I am pretty sure that the Energizer Bunny concept came from a parent or grandparent who was given the clarity of reality in a moment of vision. Watching these children for a full 24 hour cycle made one thing clear: there are only two modes, on and off. From the waking moment, it is game-on and their minds and bodies do not stop until the gas tank is empty…about 18 hours later. Thinking I might grab an afternoon nap – I carried our three-year-old granddaughter up the stairs after she fell asleep during a walk, however, I was quickly corrected as requests for a mint and Scooby Doo began as soon as I had shut my eyes.
3. There truly are guardian angels. Without unduly frightening our adult children who still trust us to watch their children, let me just say that there is no question in my mind that each of these children has a full-time angel watching over them.
4. Everything is an adventure. When did I lose my imagination? I once thought of myself as creative, but I now realize that my sense of the imaginative is a speck of dust compared to the mountainous imaginations of my grandchildren. Every stick is a sword, every balloon on the end of stick is a magic wand, every piece of paper a canvas, every mundane living room a wrestling ring, and every dollhouse a world of life and wonder. Even my boringness as an adult male is turned to wonder in my ability to serve as a horse, a target, or a jungle-gym.

Though these few glimpses seem obvious in the writing, I realize how quickly and easily my eyes grow scales to the wonder that lies before the eyes of children. I hear the door open to the stairs to my study and can only imagine the words that will follow as whichever child comes to greet me. Pitter patter on the steps and then the hesitation at my door – someone is sneaking up on me…and I am reminded that there is no joy like the joy of surprise. Why do I forget these things?

In the closing scene of A Series of Unfortunate Events, the eldest Baudelaire child, Violet, opens a letter postmarked before the death of their parents. It turns out that the letter was sent by their parents as they were traveling abroad. Amid the inspiration and the love, there is an insight that seems like it might require the eyes of a child to see:

“At times the world can seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe us when we say that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may, in fact, be the first steps of a journey.“

Returning to the sorrow of the young family being forced from their mold-contaminated home, I suddenly see the consolation they must feel having identified the answer to the mysterious illness which had been plaguing their young children for more than 12 months. For them, the unfortunate event of the mold discovery has opened the door to hope in complete health for their children. A new, and exciting, journey indeed.

As for the first words of my pitter-pattering grandchild coming through my study door this morning? “Good morning, Poppy. I’m not going to have a mint right now because Nanny says I should have a waffle for breakfast.” Good morning, my love. That is a great idea, we can have a mint later.

Another day and the adventure continues.