Linda Goodman's Sun Signs (52 page)

Her cooking? Well—you can never tell. Most Sagittarian women aren't exactly ecstatic in the kitchen (unless there's a Taurus, Cancer or Capricorn ascendant). But she can whip up a mean, fancy dessert when she's trying to cheer you out of the blues. Her own moods can be terrors, but they're rare, and they last so briefly, you'll hardly notice them. When she's really hurt, her tongue can be bitterly sarcastic. But she'll forget what she said almost before she's finished the sentence, and she won't understand why you want to dwell on it. This is not the woman for a brooding, melancholy man. Gloom and pessimism can actually make her physically ill.

Her children will probably adore her. She'll be their buddy, and have a circus playing with them. Once she's over her initial fear of responsibility, she'll cope with diapers and daily baths like a crisp, efficient nurse. Almost everything she does, she does well, with grace, when she finally decides to learn it. Just like the big people, the little ones will get a good dose of her cheerful optimism and outspoken remarks. If they survive her blunt truthfulness, they'll grow up thinking she's the greatest big sister a kid ever had. She'll read them funny stories with happy endings, and take them on sudden, impulsive picnics in the woods to look for the three bears. (She half believes they're hiding there herself.) Her youngsters will probably be well-dressed, but not fussily so, and bright-mannered. If they pick up a few unconventional tricks from her, like making footprint curtains by spreading monk's cloth on the floor, stepping barefoot into yellow paint and walking across the material—at least you won't be raising a houseful of conformists. Her honesty will mark their characters. If they don't find those three bears after a careful search under all the fir trees, she'll probably tell them to forget it—it's a phony. But she will have looked first. The child who wrote the editor of the New York
Sun
to ask if there was really a Santa Claus just had to have a Sagittarius Sun sign, moon or ascendant. She probably raised her own children by the frank, yet idealistic answer of “Yes, Virginia …” The Jupiter mother may have to watch a tendency to be lax in discipline, except when she's tired or angry. That's the wrong time for spankings.

No one entertains as graciously as a Sagittarian woman, not even her Leo sisters, who are no slouches themselves in the social department. There's a quality about her sunny, outgoing friendliness that makes people feel deeply welcome, from the garbage man to your boss. A Sagittarian breaks the ice instantly at the stiffest affairs, though she may raise a few eyebrows, too.

As long as you let her call her soul her own, and don't make her feel tied down, your Sagittarius Pollyanna will give you a triple bonus: her loyalty, her trust and her affection. The three are inseparable, because when she gives her love, her friendship trots right along beside it.

The Jupiter woman is an incurable idealist. And here's a secret perhaps she never told you: She fell in love with you many years ago, when she was a little girl and wished on the new moon for someone to share her honest heart. There were lots of times when she thought she had found you and was disappointed. But when you finally came along, she knew you right away, because you were a gentle clown with a dream or two of your own, who took her hand and showed her the way to the stars.

In the building where I live, there's a dark-haired Irish girl, who was born in December. She plays a guitar and sometimes writes songs. Once she wrote a line I thought was pretty fabulous, but she was having trouble with the rest of the lyric. She really didn't need to worry, with that opener. It was: “There you were, waving your heart at me…”

Her quaint phrase sums up every Sagittarian from age one week to one hundred years. The calendar doesn't matter. They never grow up, anyway. Take a good look at your little Sagittarius girl. There she is, waving her heart at you, like a friendly sheepdog. Your little Sagittarius son waves his heart just as enthusiastically, needing desperately to be liked for his own, honest self. When people don't say “hello” back to them, their tiny hearts droop in disappointment. Sagittarians are happy, playful, miniature clowns, who laugh with tears in their eyes when they're rejected. Even the infants show their sunny natures and desire for comradeship. The Jupiter baby will cry when he's left alone, but wheel his bassinet into the living room where the grownups are laughing and talking, and he'll sleep contentedly, with the warm, reassuring sound of human voices in his tiny ears. His dreams will be all the sweeter for being wrapped in the cozy, familiar atmosphere of loving and happy people. Later, he may grow more removed from family ties, but when he's little, he needs the security of human smells and sights and sounds, exactly as a newborn puppy needs one of your old sweaters in his basket to snuggle up to cozily. If such close, human contact is denied the Jupiter youngster, he'll withdraw and maybe become a little sarcastic. Then he'll adopt a substitute, like the dirty, torn blanket of Linus in
“Peanuts.”
It can be a soft, pinch pillow or a cuddly teddy bear, with its ears twisted off and its nose missing, but it represents security. He'd much prefer you.

The Sagittarius boy shows his happy-go-lucky nature by wandering into the woods with a makeshift fishing pole and a can of worms, barefoot, cheerfully whistling, talking to everyone he meets, his faithful dog trotting behind him. Sagittarians are informal as youngsters, and they never outgrow it. The little Jupiter girl may go through a tomboy stage, and you'll always be reminding her to “act like a lady” as she grows up. But these girls and boys have their own ideas of what makes “a little lady” and “a little gentleman.” It starts out with honesty. Naked, unadorned, brutal honesty. They have it refined to an art and they will expect it from you—or else. Or else what? Or else they will refuse to be docile little slaves, meekly obeying every parental whim.

Your authority is fair game for the Sagittarian child's frank, curious investigation. He'll give in graciously if he's convinced there is logic behind your command. Parental orders must first pass the scrutiny of his inquisitive, reasonable mental processes, and if you don't come out with a good grade in his test, you will get left back. There you'll stand, waving your authority or a switch at him, and there he'll stand, waving his honesty and defiance right back at you. If you're fair and you try to be as honest as he is, the Jupiter youngster will learn to respect your rules. You'll have to be firm when you know you're right and give him a good, solid reason. When you're wrong, you'll have to admit your mistake and come right out with a straightforward confession of stupidity. Let's face it, many times parents insist on obedience to rules they make up for their own convenience, rather than for the well-being of the child. A Sagittarius moppet can smell that kind of dishonesty a mile away, as his nostrils quiver like a bird dog's and his muscles quiver with anger, backed by righteous indignation. Better plan to explain all your orders and commands to him calmly, or be prepared to use up a lot of switches before the Jupiter obstinacy in the face of unjustified punishment will show any signs of weakening.

A phrase often used by mothers with December-born children is “curiosity killed the cat.” Sagittarian curiosity never ends. The day begins with a question and they fall asleep with a question on their lips. When they're very young, just learning to talk and to explore the huge world, the questions will be, “Why is it naughty to touch the stove?” “Why does candy make my teeth fall out?” “Why do carrots make my hair curly?” “Why does Santa Claus need a letter if he's so magic?” “Why did Daddy wink at you when you were talking about a second honeymoon, and why do you call a moon honey?” “Why do you talk like there are two moons when Billy says there's just one?” (Billy is the too-smart-for-his-blue jeans older Aquarian brother, and if you have
that
combination, at your house you're in real hot water!) All through lunch, nap time and supper, the questions drone on. “Why did you and Daddy say Grandpa was henpecked? Is he a chicken?” “Why did my teddy bear tell you I ate the cookies? Why doesn't he ever talk to me like he talks to you?”

You can see that most of the Jupiter youngster's questions are aimed at puncturing adult hypocrisy or grownup smugness and downright deception. It won't do you much good to get all worked up and yell, “Be still! If you say ‘why' once more, I'll paddle you. Don't ever say that word again.” Then you'll hear the archer's clear little voice giving it to you right between the eyes: “Why not?”

Later, when he or she is older, it will be “Why do I have to come in at a certain time when you say you trust me?” (and you will trust this child, or you should). “Why does it matter what people think? Do you care more about people than you do about me?” That's a tough one. Better practice an answer to it while he's still in diapers. The Sagittarian teenager will never swallow your rules if they're based on social mores rather than on concern for his welfare. There are some good, sound, logical answers to your insistence on his observing certain social customs, of course. They involve a reputation and its precious value, but be sure you have them well-rehearsed and see that they ring true.

The ancient warning, “when children are little, they step on your feet—when they're bigger, they step on your heart,” might have been written about a Sagittarian. There's no getting around it. This child is awkward, if not downright clumsy. Keep the medicine chest well stocked with Bactine and band aids. Tiny Sagittarians clomp on your feet and get in the way of your dust mop, your vacuum and all your good intentions. You may have a constantly sore toe and a sore ego. But those are nothing compared to the sore heart you may have someday, when the Jupiter boy or girl plants a foot on it firmly. His or her strong need for freedom includes freedom from family ties, and these children will strike out on their own extraordinarily early, sometimes neglecting to phone or write for long periods. It can cause some mighty painful stabs in the chest region. The best cure for such parental heartburn is to make sure when your Sagittarian child is little that he's learned to respect you for your sense of honor and tolerance. If you're narrow and prejudiced, you may only see him on holidays, if then. But if you refrain from judging his friends by any yardstick other than their true value—and if you've proved you have faith in his decency and in his dreams, he'll come home to renew his love and trip over your feet to your heart's content. Otherwise, he'll stay out there somewhere with his blanket or pillow or teddy bear in the form of new friends who accept him for what he is and believe in him.

Expect romance to rear its lacy head quite early. The girls will probably not be serious; they're just trying out their femininity, if the right parental attitude precludes using dates as that security blanket. The boys may need a little special tutoring in the subject of birds and bees. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Teach these children economy. They'll spend money like it's made of paper, which they've already discovered it is. They have to learn that when they spend their allowance, it's spent. Don't plug up the holes for them. If they waste their lunch money on comic books or candy—let them take peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to school for the rest of the week. That may sound a little harsh, but it's necessary. Someday the Diner's Club will thank you.

Both sexes will probably enjoy school. Their multiple-faceted intelligence and great curiosity will make learning a fascinating game, if their bright interest isn't squelched by too much dull, boring routine and too much insistence on strict regulations and rigid study habits. The more progressive education becomes, the better and happier students these children will be. They're restless, and making them sit still constantly, or stifling their fanciful imagination will soon kill their incentive, sadly, sometimes permanently. Sagittarian children with severe, intolerant teachers or who are victims of unimaginative teaching methods tend to want to drop out of school and go to work.

The honor system works very well with young archers. A Jupiter child will never cheat in any way, if he's trusted not to do so. Otherwise, he may figure it doesn't matter. If no one believes in him, then why try?

There may be a deep and very serious interest in religion. These are the boys and girls who decide at a tender age to become a priest or a nun, minister, rabbi or missionary in a foreign country. As they grow older, they'll question dogmas, perhaps change faith and church membership, searching eternally for truth. The Peace Corps invariably attracts Jupiter youngsters. They like the idea of seeing the world and the chance to put their idealism to work. A Sagittarian without a cause is like a dog without a bone to chew on. Fighting for causes develops their strength. Without a bone, the puppy may tear the couch or chair to shreds. Without a cause, the Sagittarian youngster may tear into ideas with such fervor and fanaticism that he can shred his future irreparably.

His eyes are fastened trustingly on the stars, and he may take a few spills as he trudges along, not noticing the rocks in his path. He's an independent, honest little archer. Give him lots of room to shoot and to practice drawing his bow. He needs to feel the grass under his bare feet, feel the rain on his face and bake his dreams in the strong, warm sunlight until they're well-done. There he is, waving his happy, optimistic young heart at you. Wave back at him with cheerful faith.