One of the things kids are very best things is putting you back in your place. Sometimes it seems to be their entire function on earth. Pricking the swollen balloon of your ego at the perfect time. The most painful time, often, but there is no more perfect time than that one. When you don’t want it, but you need it. These are a few of my favorites, visited upon my loved ones and myself by my beloved children who take it as their God given right and responsibility to make sure none of us get too full of themselves. Somebody’s gotta do it. Might as well be the ones that get a pass most of the time because they’re small and cute.
“You know, there’s not a problem in the world that can’t be solved with a good cup of tea,” a family member who shall remain nameless proclaimed around the fire, punctuated by a sip and a theatrical “ah,” as they sat down. One of the sort of silly British pronouncements that an affected person would make in an egotistical sweep of fluttering sobriety. Or perhaps one that Winston Churchill made actually referencing a “good glass of brandy” that his wife tactfully rewrote later, substituting “tea” in an act of propriety. Either way an entirely wanky statement, but especially so when said by a grown person sipping peppermint tea with their pinky flung in the air. Cue Lilah to the rescue from across the flames.
“What about being stuck in a tree? A cup of tea won’t solve that.”
Let’s all take time to laugh at you, silly person. The short one is all too right. Your turn to be taken down a notch. That’s why I don’t make platitudes around those little bastards anymore. Nasty habit, anyway.
“Well, they’re down there. You may have to look past something, but there’s a lid for every bottom,” C said to Sophie as we cleaned up after dinner. She pursed her lips as she said it, annoyed and sarcastic. Where is the Tupperware and the lid for it? Are you serious? How long have you lived in this house?
The response was snide, for sure. I’m guilty as well of the tone, guilty as hell sometimes. Especially in response to questions that they have GOT to know the answers to at this point. Where is my face? Are we at Disneyland? What do you mean, upstairs? Questions that never should have been asked by a reasonably intelligent child. The same child that, if you whisper a complicated aside to your mate, not only overhears it, but deftly comprehends it all and wants to know more of the relevant details. So I call bullshit to the dumb question routine anyway, but that’s irrelevant to this diatribe.
“You know, it’s hard to take you seriously when you do that thing with your lips,” pre-teen Sophie said, doing a perfect rendition of C. pursing her own snide little lips. She was smiling but she was serious and that’s the worst kind.
I looked away as my face erupted in quiet laughter.
“You better watch it Sophie,” she said sternly, then flicked her gaze to me for my warning. “and unless you want me to laugh at you when it’s your turn…”
I left the room. My bad, but the shit was funny.
“Daddy, you suck,” little Sophie said, looking way up at me after that longest of Father’s day. No sleep, that time ensured by our then-infant Lilah. Family emergencies and a generally shitty day anyway, irregardless of the fact that Hallmark had doomed it a day for me to be waited on and made to feel special.
“Go to your room,” I said, managing to leave out the yelling as well as the “forever, you little shit!” that almost leaked out. She started weeping.
“Why? Why Daddy?”
I just pointed to her room and stood in front of SportsCenter. Of course 3 year-old Sophie had no idea what ‘sucked’ meant, I realized as tears welled up in my own goddamned eyes. She was just trying it out. Besides, it was true. I did suck. Just like that day. I let her sit in time out anyway.
Pursed lips never, ever work. Yet we just keep on pursing them, don’t we?
Pursed lips, the look, a raised eyebrow…all effective nonverbal communication instead of the smart ass comment!!