Skip to main content

My Daughter, The Revolter

My life has become a walking petri dish. Between the exposure to lice and pink eye (just this week), The Rabbit knocked this one out last night.

"I have a secret."
(Really not good words to hear from your child after finding out her class is infested again with lice.)
"Okay. Tell me."
"You can't get mad."
(Too late.)
"Okay. I won't"
"Promise."
(Sigh) "I promise."
"You don't break your promises. Remember?"
"Rabbit. Just tell me."
"Remember when you told me not to jump in those leaves? When we were walking home? Because there was poop?"
(eyes rolling into back of head now.)
"Remember?"
"Yeeeeesssss."
"Because I was wearing my new boots. Remember?"
"Where are the boots."
"You said you wouldn't get mad!"
(running to room)
"Where are they!"
"That's not fair! I'm not telling!"
(stopping) "Okay. I'm not mad."
(not believing me)
"Not mad. Where. Are. They."
(follow her to my room to my hamper.)
"Oh no."
"But I put them in the dirty clothes!"

Comments

YLM said…
We all remember the joy of Autumn leaves, don't we? But one question, did dogs NOT poop sneakily under piles of the lovely crinkly stuff during our childhoods? Because I swear I jumped in huge piles of leaves on a daily basis as a child and the shoe-poop scenario never happened. Was I lucky, or is this just another way in which 21st Century childhood really sucks? I think we need to know.
Anonymous said…
Isn't it wonderful how children think that all summer days are gloriously sunny, all winter days are gloriously snowy, mothers are always gloriously baking, fathers are all gloriously jolly...or whatever rocks your boat in that dreamy zone of hindsight?
21st Century childhood might suck in many ways but dogs have pooped in leaves since the Ark and children (and others) have stepped in it.
Yes, YLM, you were lucky - you are in denial re your mother cursing as she dug the poop out of the soles of your cute little Startrites after she had begged you not to walk in the leaves and then run through the house. But God works in mysterious ways. What goes around comes around.
LOVE IT!!!!

Sounded like a conversation between myself and my 7 yr old!

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …