Mixed messages
When I picked up A from school yesterday, he had two Band-Aids on his leg. Since children often want Band-Aids when they don't really need them and lately he has been coming home sporting many Band-Aids only to reveal no more than a scratch, I didn't think anything of it.
After school, we had a play date and he tripped on cement and took the top layer of skin off of his elbow. There was actual blood and a need for Band-Aids.
At bath time, while he was sitting on the toilet (such a special bonding time), he was dramatically pointing out all of his scrapes and scars. I ripped off his leg Band-Aids and, as predicted, could see nothing there. I don't know who I turned into, other than the most insensitive mother ever, but I was like, "Alex, everyone needs some scars. They tell a story and make us tough." I think I then went on to tell him that if he never had any scrapes or cuts and stayed soft, people would assume he was some kind of prince who spent his entire life indoors and sitting on cushions. (Kim Jong...)
Then I showed him a few of my hundred scars:
"This is the first time I shaved my legs..."
"This is when I decided to go rollerblading at night..."
"This is when I sawed off dead tree limbs with a manual saw..."
"This is when I crashed my bike into oncoming traffic..."
And as I started running out of stories for my scars, "This is when I cut myself with a knife fixing dinner one time..."
I never said they were good stories.
After coach gave her son a bath, I said, "I have a surprise for you!"
They were polar bear pajamas that I got for $3 at Old Navy. Alex has more pajamas than actual clothes because I have a problem.
He was less than excited when he saw his "surprise", but was a good sport and wore them.
I told him how adorable he looked and I asked him if he would always wear the pajamas I bought him, even when he was older and thought they were lame. He smiled and said, "Sure, Mom."
And just as fast as I was trying to "toughen up" my son 10 minutes earlier, I made him pinky promise me that he would always wear cute pajamas.
Go home, Mom, you're drunk.
After school, we had a play date and he tripped on cement and took the top layer of skin off of his elbow. There was actual blood and a need for Band-Aids.
At bath time, while he was sitting on the toilet (such a special bonding time), he was dramatically pointing out all of his scrapes and scars. I ripped off his leg Band-Aids and, as predicted, could see nothing there. I don't know who I turned into, other than the most insensitive mother ever, but I was like, "Alex, everyone needs some scars. They tell a story and make us tough." I think I then went on to tell him that if he never had any scrapes or cuts and stayed soft, people would assume he was some kind of prince who spent his entire life indoors and sitting on cushions. (Kim Jong...)
Then I showed him a few of my hundred scars:
"This is the first time I shaved my legs..."
"This is when I decided to go rollerblading at night..."
"This is when I sawed off dead tree limbs with a manual saw..."
"This is when I crashed my bike into oncoming traffic..."
And as I started running out of stories for my scars, "This is when I cut myself with a knife fixing dinner one time..."
I never said they were good stories.
After coach gave her son a bath, I said, "I have a surprise for you!"
They were polar bear pajamas that I got for $3 at Old Navy. Alex has more pajamas than actual clothes because I have a problem.
He was less than excited when he saw his "surprise", but was a good sport and wore them.
And just as fast as I was trying to "toughen up" my son 10 minutes earlier, I made him pinky promise me that he would always wear cute pajamas.
Go home, Mom, you're drunk.
Comments
Post a Comment