Chip Off the Old Block

My child is turning into her mother. I’m not declaring this as though it’s a good thing. She’s picked up on my phrases, enjoys organizing, carbohydrates and pesters me all day to let her watch more television. I’ve definitely created a monster. I’m frightened to have another child. In what ways will I be able to screw that kid up?

I suppose the circle is complete because, over the past month or so, I noticed how many things I do and say that have come from my own mother. The entire female population on that side of the family has a wonderful way of shrieking at less-than-exclaimable life moments. “WHAT? YOU’RE SHITTING ME?!!! Yep, I inherited that. I’ve notice I also proclaim, “Mother of God,” at many things. Bread informed me Bird used this the other day as well. Crap. Here I thought I was doing well because I am managing not to drop F-bombs. This is not great. I suppose there are worse things but we’re preparing to send her to preschool tomorrow. I can’t have this out in the open. The authorities will come. They will take me away. I will not fare well in jail. I need cosmetics, preferably those containing Retinol and SPF 30. I need lip balm and my magazines. Oh, and, I’m not really fond of public showers.

Bird received a Fisher Price iXL for Christmas. This is the best thing ever. It keeps her busy (educationally) while I shop! Peaceful moments in Target! I can do all my shopping! It is glorious. For some reason, she keeps putting the pen that goes with it in her mouth. This bothers me as she is too old to be doing this. Again, preschool! So the other night, we’re sitting there and she’s playing some princess game on her new toy when I see her with the dang pen in her mouth again. I tell her to take it out. She asks why to which I just raise my eyebrows. That’s all I did-raise the ol’ eyebrows. She said, “Because you said so.” Yes! That’s it. I am amazed lately how quickly, easily and without so much of a second thought that phrase rolls off my tongue. I am a mother. Mother, all right…But, my kid gets it. She’s a genius.

The next night we were playing around. I may have been a bit sleepy. I may have been lying on the couch under a blanket trying to convince her to rub my back and put me to sleep. May have been-I’m not quite recalling exactly what we were up to. Ahem. So, at some point she’s talking and talking and I’m dozing. She says, “Nutjobs! They’re nutjobs!” I have no idea to what or whom she’s referring but of course I perk right up at this. I ask her who she’s talking about. She says, “Nutjobs! We’re all a bunch of nutjobs.” Yep. Shit.

Yesterday she was happily playing with her “friends” as she calls her stuffed animals. Bread was in the kitchen and I was sitting at the computer. Bird goes running by, yelling, “If I have to tell you again, I’m going to beat you.” She starts school on tomorrow. I suspect the authorities will be at my door by Thursday. It was nice knowing you.