Oh, six-and-half-year-old--you always know what I'm REALLY saying.
May 20, 2009Please yell at me for waking you up. I deserve to be put in my place.
If you could slosh as much of your cereal as possible all over the table, that would be fantastic. Cleaning up after you makes me feel useful. When I ask you to help out, you know I'm joking, right? Hilarious!
Read you an entire book while you’re eating your breakfast? No problem—I secretly hate enjoying my coffee and breakfast in peace. Also I am DYING to know how this Magic Tree House book turns out. It’s never the same thing twice.
There’s no rush about getting to school. Put your shoes on whenever.
My raised voice is just an attempt to exercise my lungs. You keep not putting those shoes on, champ.
Of course I want to hear your story about the giant bug robots you invented! In fact I can’t wait another moment to hear it! I don’t want to hear it on the way to school, because then I’d be distracted by how on-time we could potentially be. Stand in front of the door while telling me. Don’t forget to take off one shoe, first!
Now put that shoe back on. But so slowly, it’s like you’re not even moving. You are so excellent at this.
While we’re walking to school, if you demand that you don’t want to go to school anymore, you might just convince me. Don’t give up. I will definitely see your point one of these days.
Now take off, without warning, because you’ve spotted one of your friends! Run and keep on running! Make sure I lose you in the crowd, because there is nothing I need more than to sprint the last few blocks to school. You are helping extend my life span, with all this exercise. Good for you!
While you’re at school, I will be filling your room with new toys and my pockets with chocolate. Or I won’t because I’m a heartless monster.
Well, hello! I trust you had a good day. I spent the day as I always do, watching Star Wars, eating hot fudge with my hands, playing with your Legos. But enough about me. Like you, I am so grateful the front of the school is surrounded by ice-cream trucks. It’s so convenient for me. For us! And I know I said you could only get ice cream once a week, but, you know, I say things. I don’t mean them. If you keep asking I will surely crack.
Do I want to hold your backpack AND your art project AND your jacket? Well, duh.
I can barely say “You can only watch two TV shows” with a straight face! You know that if you keep asking I’m going to admit that you can watch all the television you want. Why do I continue this charade? I guess it’s just fun for me.
That inflatable Spider-Man you got at the fair that keeps deflating? That I told you had a hole in it somewhere and probably needed to be thrown out? Another made-up story. I just want to inflate it every fifteen minutes, whenever you notice that it’s gotten all flat and saggy. When you’re not looking I let some of the air out again. Entertaining!
I lie about bedtime. I lie and lie and lie. I say it’s time for bed but we adults all know that sleep is completely optional. I don’t sleep at all, of course.
That’s why I love it when you call for me at 4 a.m. because your sheets feel funny. I get so bored, just before dawn.
I am truly sorry you didn’t get everything your heart desired, today. Try me again tomorrow. Your tactics are beginning to work. I have a feeling that tomorrow your every wish will be granted.
Reader Comments (185)
I'm not alone!!!!!
And yes, my love, I would LOVE to go all the way back home after dropping you off to get the toy plane you forgot at the front door, even though you are not allowed to have it at school so it must stay in your cubby, but it is important that you know it is THERE so yes, I'll go get it, because that means I will have the joy of TWO longdrawnoutgoodbyes in one morning. No, of course I don't have a job to go to.
Ice cream trucks are like stray animals. If they don't get fed, they don't come back. No one is with me on this one. There is always some grandparent there to foil my plan.
Either way, it will all be over, and you will find yourself wondering, "How long until he starts stealing my black eyeliner and spending time sulking in his room while listening to the most depressing, emo music in the world? At this rate, it can't be very long at all." and "Should I be worried that he seems to relate so well to Linkin Park lyrics at 10?"
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"That’s why I love it when you call for me at 4 a.m. because your sheets feel funny. I get so bored, just before dawn."
made me snarf-chortle-SNORT out loud.
What I love about my daughter is the way she needs me to buy her various food and drinks while we're out and about that I then have to hold for her, half-chewed and sticky and towering like landfill in my one free hand. I can't throw them away, though: she might need them later. It's really great.
Awesome.
Especially the shoe thing. And I have an almost 9 year old. Never ends.
"No, really, go ahead and keep wrestling with your brother. My morning isn't complete without a game of 'Guess Which Kid Will Start Crying First?'"
I love that I'm not the only one who has carefully held onto the stick of a half-eaten lollipop for an entire playground visit just in case Wonderboy wants to get to the Tootsie Roll on the way home.