Kids Say the Darndest, Most Embarrasing Things

Monday, June 30, 2008

Please welcome my friend and first guest poster, J.

So Melanie calls me and asks me to be a guest writer for her blog. I say, "Sure. I'd love to,” thinking that I'm going in that little box over on the right hand side or something. No big whoop. I can come up with some little antic dote about my 4 year old daughter, right?

How hard can that be, right? WRONG!!! I found out I AM the blog. What was Melanie thinking? It's all I can do to write out a grocery list- let alone write a blog [entry]. Come to think of it what was I thinking?! Lord help us all…

As I was saying I have a 4 year old daughter. Like all parents, she gives me immeasurable amounts of joy and adds so much life to my- er- life.

And like all parents, often enough, she makes me want to crawl under the very crust of the Earth and hide in the pools of molten hot magma below- forever. People's exhibit A…

Just recently she was playing at the park. Eventually she had to go potty. Secretly, I think she just likes to check out all of the facilities of every place we've ever gone to compare and contrast. So off to the potty we go.

Now, this park has a community pool so the bathroom was attached to the pool locker room. We get in, go, and now we're going to wash our hands. So far so good… should be relatively easy to clear this hurdle and then back out to play.

And for all intents and purposes it was. But, for reasons I cannot understand, I continually forget to take into account how easy a task is going to be based directly on and proportionately to factor X. Factor X being whether or not there is any human interaction. And to my complete horror- there, in this bathroom was a Factor X.

Factor X was an adorable, little old lady- most likely in her mid 80's just coming in from doing some no-impact aerobic activity from the swimming pool. And like my daughter, she too, was washing her hands. Factor X looked into the mirror and smiled at my daughter. My daughter half smiled with a slightly inquisitive look on her face.

My Mommy-Sense was tingling. This look meant that little brain of hers was working and working hard. Working hard at formulating a question that would undoubtedly be one of those afore mentioned moments where I wished that the earth would open up beneath my feet and like riding in an elevator, I would just sink down.

Before I even had a second to react my innocent and sweet little girl looks over at Factor X and says in her sweetest, little girl voice, "How come you've got so much skin?" I nearly hit the floor.

Well, the gods were taking pity on my poor soul that day because Factor X offered up a chance for me to redeem what was left of my pride. Before I walked out of the restroom that day with my head hung low, and my tail between my legs feeling like a failure as a parent AND a person, Factor X said, "What was that dear?"

Redemption! I seized the moment, "She asked, 'How come you're so tan?'" "Oh," she said with a chuckle, "I didn't quite hear her." I was saved.

Factor X looked at my daughter and smiled sweetly. "I'm out in the sun a lot honey. I should wear more sun block. I bet you wear your sun block like a good girl. That way you won't end up with all of this old, wrinkly skin- like me." And with that, she crinkled up her nose, turned around and walked out.

I too crinkled up my nose but it was at my daughter. Her innocence had once again, caused me an unbelievable amount of anxiety and near humiliation.

But, honestly, isn't that part of what being a kid is all about… embarrassing the hell out of your parents as fast as you can because when given the chance, we as parents, are armed with an arsenal of things to embarrass the hell out of our kids with.

We did it to our parents and now life is returning the favor. They say a picture is worth 1,000 words. I wonder what words she'll use when I pull out the photo of her proudest moment to date… "Look Mommy! Poo-poo in the potty!" Ha! Bring it on little girl. I'm ready. And remember, no matter what, Mommy loves you!!!

1 comment:

  1. I love this story. Great job Mrs. Guest Poster. And now, you should sign up for more, 'cause you're gooood.


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