Every parent, at one time or another, questions their ability to raise their children. “How is it”…we ask ourselves…”that we take these tiny little beings and form them into stable, productive members of society?” “How is it exactly, that am I supposed to take this child, the one who runs around like a chicken with its head cut off, hopped up on jelly bellies, and jumping off of furniture like he’s practicing for the Olympics, and turn him into someone who is… not me?”
Well, sorry, you are out of luck.. I don’t have a freaking clue as how to answer either of those questions. What I do have however, is a child that has developed my somewhat ridicules affinity for the warped. (Oh yea!)
As we sat (my 2 small children and I) at a stop light this morning my son (who is 5) decides to do a little back seat driving. “Slow down mommy.” He says to me as I turn the corner at a whopping 3 miles an hour. “If you don’t slow down you are going to tip us over…and then I’m going to die…cause the car is going to cut me into a gazillion pieces.”
“What??” I say, as I stare in stunned horror at my child through the rearview mirror. “You are kidding right? Did you really just say that??”
Alas…yes he did indeed say that…which inadvertently got me to thinking about the other random disturbing things he has said lately, for example: “Mommy… see that ambulance…there’s a dead person in there.” “No honey…” (I say in my warm, calming, mommy voice) “lets hope not…let’s just hope they have a boo boo and the doctors can fix them right up.” “Nope!” he says to me “She’s dead.. I saw her through the glass.”
So now…as a compulsitory result to my child’s wild train of thought, I am now sitting here pondering the mysteries of my child when I should be working. I regretfully and thankfully have come to a conclusion though.
I…Misty…suck at being a parent.
I should probably be more attentive as to what he is watching on TV (maybe Southland and Bones wasn’t such a good idea.) Or.. maybe I should consider looking closely at the lyrics to the songs he likes to listen to on my iPod. (All American Rejects? Hum… ) Or…better yet…maybe I should just lock him in his bedroom with nothing but happy smiling stuffed animals and the “Wiggles” set to repeat on his CD player.
Do you know the answers? Probably not…so I’ll leave you with this: always look on the Brightside…at least if he wants to be a doctor he won’t be squeamish.
