Wednesday, May 20, 2009
They're already broken
As parents, we all fear that we are constantly doing and saying things to our kids that will inevitably screw them up for life and cost them millions of dollars in therapy to recover from.
I say that we should stop worrying. They’re already screwed up before they even squeeze through the expandable tunnel to enter this cruel world. Or at least mine are.
You see, they are missing the brain cells responsible for telling them that public butt scratching is not okay. And they are also missing the brain cells responsible for determining that poop is no laughing matter.
Last month, the kids and I spent Easter weekend at my sister's house. My daughter brought her favorite stuffed duck with her, who we'll call Duck and who has a zipper on his back for obvious reasons. After all, with wings instead of hands, how else are ducks to carry things around if we don’t provide them with built-in storage?
By introducing this toy to my sister’s sense of humor, Duck was soon undergoing “surgery.” (He had a tonsillectomy.)
But before long, my son had moved from surgical humor (which I find rather amusing) directly into potty humor (decidedly less amusing) by hiding tiny Lego people in the duck’s body cavity and laughing hysterically as Duck “pooped Jedi warriors.”
This was so funny to him that he brought the humor with him the next day to our Sunday morning Easter service, then picked the most inappropriate moment possible to loudly declare that Duck poops Jedi warriors. Except that it sounded for all the world like he was saying “Jedi lawyers.”
I presume that Jedi knights make good defense lawyers? That lightsaber is surely a good negotiation tool.
As for the butt scratching, it all began with a case of the itchies brought on by the darling new dress my daughter was wearing in honor of the occasion. But my daughter was having a hard time reaching this particular itch, which she announced to every single person in the room, one at a time, via a simple request:
“Will you pweease skwatch my bottom?”
To which only my 17-year-old niece, Grace, had a really great answer. “You should ask your Auntie Therese. I bet she’d love to do that.”
Posted by Unknown at 10:14 AM