You know, lately I have begun to question whether I am cut out to be a parent. As parents we are supposed to be wise, patient, kind, insightful… near-omniscient, benevolent beings charged with the molding of young lives. But children have a way of exploding the Hallmark perceptions that we blissfully pack into parenthood.
Child #2, rinsing cereal down the kitchen sink and talking at the same time.
Me: Hey, please don’t dump food down the sink!
Child #2: I’m not dumping food down the sink. (scrapes the bowl out with fingers)
Obviously I am mistaken as to the definition of “food”. Or maybe “sink”. But I was definitely WAY OFF.
Enter Child #11, with child #10 crying.
Sibling tattled that #11 hit #10 with an action figure.
Me: “Why did you hit your brother?”
#11: “I didn’t.”
Me: “Then why is he crying?” (The wails increase in volume.)
#11: “I tapped him. Very softly. I was nice!”
Me: (eyeing the mark left by Captain America) “Then where did this come from?”
#11 shrugs, big innocent four year old eyes: “Maybe he was playing with a marker.”
But my favorite is Exhibit C:
Child #2: “Why am I in trouble? I just don’t get it!”
Me: “Well, we have explained it six times. Mainly for arguing with Mom.”
#2: “I don’t argue with you!”
Me: “…um… yes… regularly…”
#2: “No, I don’t! I never argue with you!”
Me: “You are arguing with me about arguing!”
#2: “No, I’m not!”
Yessir, I missed my career path big time. My powers of observation are evidently far too limited for this parenting gig. Maybe I should consider something not quite so taxing for my inferior mental capacity… like rocket science. Jeez. The things that no one tells you about raising kids…