We all hope for the same things as parents.
Good report cards.
Manners like ‘Thank you for having me’ when you pick up from a sleepover.
Kids who don’t consume food as though they entered a hotdog eating competition.
Those things make parents pat themselves on the back as a reminder that we’re doing something right. Maybe my kids won’t end up in ‘juvee’ after all. We have visions of wearing an evening gown over a much-needed spray tan to the Mom of the Year Awards, where we deliver our prepared-to-sound-off-the-cuff speech:
‘I’d like to thank my family, friends, and all those moms with perfect facebook posts for this award. You inspire me.’
And then we wake up.
My kids are good kids. They walk a pretty straight line, and commit the normal offenses that most kids do: Don’t listen the first time we call them for dinner or try to wear yesterday’s clothes because the spaghetti stain isn’t, like, VISIBLE.
I’m going to try that for work one day. Might shave off 15 minutes in the morning by just sleeping in my outfit from the night before.
And then there are those embarrassing moments. The ones where you start to think…is this normal? If I post this on facebook, would I still have friends? Would my kids get invited over anymore? Talking about yesterday when I told my 2nd grader we would soon be leaving for his friend’s laser tag birthday party. I mentioned that he would need to create a screenname to play the game, and be thinking about what he wanted to call himself.
Seems simple enough. Something like SuperFlash or Can’tTouchMe. Those are hip, right?
He had a different idea. My son with the big blue eyes looked at me with a serious face and said:
I think I’ll call myself…BUTTHOLE.
Please. Send. Help.