A Week of Goofy Regrets

>> Saturday, October 27, 2007

Moon Sand

File this under “seemed like a good idea at the time.” We I thought: We’re bored. We need projects. Let’s break out the Moon Sand! After all, the box says it’s moldable, colorful, and appropriate for 3 year-olds. But what it failed to mention was that it’s like taking a bowl of blue sand and dumping it onto the carpet. Yes, it’s moldable. But it’s also sand. Keep that in mind folks. It won't behave and stay nicely on the kitchen counter or in the bowl. It will spill... and it will cover and cling to everything. Macy the doggie may never be the same...


Garden Snails... as Pets

Elizabeth has been clamoring for a pet to call her own ever since Boris died. So when she found a cute little snail shell in Grandma’s garden, it wasn’t long before the shell was living in a cream cheese container on her night stand. See, I thought it was an empty shell. Imagine my surprise when I saw her kissing the underside of the shell, only to see her lips touching the slimy gray tenant that lived within. (I made her vow never to do that again.)

Over the next couple of days, “Snaily” would disappear, only to be found climbing up her bedroom wall, mirror, or night stand. He is a snail, after all, doing what he does best.

Then Grandma arrived with -- you guessed it! -- four more live snails. Now they all live in a cardboard box in her bedroom. I’m preparing Elizabeth for their inevitable re-release into the wild.

“They miss all their snail friends. Maybe one of them wants to be with his mama. He could be crying for all we know. See that slime on the walls? That’s a trail of tears...”


Skull

I knew Elizabeth would like it. I knew Michael would like it. So I bought this horrible skull. But what I didn’t realize is that when you squeeze it, not only does its eye pop out (which is kinda cool), but if you turn it over, blood and dead flies pour into its distended eye-balloon. I haven’t decided what I hate more -- the sight of blood-soaked flies when they get caught in the eye socket, or the sound the skull makes as my husband and first born squish it endlessly.


Pretty Rocks

The smooth, cool texture of these beautiful rocks hypnotized all of us. For a moment, I forgot I was a mother in charge of keeping my babies safe and free from all choking hazards. So I allowed them to fill their black velvet bags with these multicolored rocks. Now I spend most of my time hiding them and pretending we never bought them.

“Rocks? What rocks? I think you guys must have dreamt that, because I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”


Animated YouTube Video

Let me preface this by saying I have learned a couple of important lessons.

Lesson One: Prescreen all YouTube videos before watching them with my girls -- not during. (I know -- duh. But sometimes you need to experience it, firsthand.)

Lesson Two: Lizzy is now old enough to understand the context behind short adult animated movies. I can no longer assume she will simply “not get it”.

She saw an icon for this 3-D animation while we were watching kids’ videos on YouTube and she begged me to watch it. I reluctantly agreed. It seemed pretty harmless -- a wife humorously attempts to renew the romance in her marriage. While watching it, I assumed Lizzy wouldn’t understand the context of animated seduction. I figured she would just think it was kind of bizarre and that’s it.



Yes. I’m stupid. What can I say. Not only did she understand something, but for the next 24 hours, she spontaneously burst into tears when she thought of the “little guy” (the husband) and how he lost his male “friend”. Mind you, she doesn’t get the sexual subtext of how he was cheating on his wife with his friend, nor is she concerned that this doesn’t bode well for their marriage. (Forget all about the neglected wife.) Instead, my very sweet, empathetic little girl is simply sad that the husband no longer has a friend. And I am sad that I made my little girl cry... over such a stupid video.

Let’s hope I regret less next week.




Previous Comments

 

0 comments:

Post a Comment