There are a myriad of things that parents expect to say to their children. “Have you brushed your teeth?” “Your room needs to be cleaned,” “Bring me your dirty laundry,” and “Eat your veggies” were all things that I was completely prepared for. I had a mental notepad of all the “mom” things I knew I would need to say as my son grew up and as I said each one I would mentally tick it off my list with a smile. Little did I know there would be an even larger list of things I never thought I would have to say to another human being, ever.
One morning as I was getting ready for the day, when my son was about three, I heard a distinct cat hiss followed by a human hacking sound. I turned from the bathroom mirror to see my son vigorously attempting to get a clump of cat hair off of his tongue while he hopped around my room. I heard “Momma, kitty tastes bad!” while he scrunched his little face up as I attempted to stop my child from hacking up a fur ball later.
“I bet. And this is why we don’t lick the cat.”
That was just the beginning of the downward spiral of strange pieces of advice I would be giving my son over the next two years. He’s only six now but we have covered a vast array of subjects, each one more troubling than the last. Shortly after the cat licking incident I had to inform him that it was in bad taste to chew your toenails at a family restaurant. This was closely followed by me having to inform him that going to the store in only a diaper and rain boots was underdressing for the occasion.
As he has gotten older, the peculiarities of parenting have come out in full bloom. At least once a week I have to tell him that growling when being asked a question isn’t exactly the polite answer I was looking for. Our latest was me explaining that, because puppies don’t have thumbs, his new dog would most likely not be interested in playing with his kinetic sand so he should be fine on his worries about it.
There have also been a few new variations on tried and true “mom” things. “Eat your veggies” has now turned into “Please don’t shove the foods you hate up your nose.” “Have you brushed your teeth” is now “Please don’t lick me, a simple yes would have sufficed.” And “Bring me your dirty clothes” has turned into “Why are all of your things in the freezer and why didn’t I notice you doing this?”
Bath time has turned into me chuckling as he screams out that he peed in the bath, again, which is then followed by me telling him that he probably shouldn’t scream that at the pool, again. While I am trying to stop my son from running at the wall after watching “Harry Potter,” I am simultaneously trying to stop him from stabbing his father with a lightsaber while yelling “I’m Kylo Ren!”
“Get that out of your pants” is now a personal favorite of mine along with “Fancy goldfish can’t eat hotdogs so don’t even try it.” “Don’t lick the shopping cart” has now replaced various animals and telling him that his pet snail won’t climb out of his cage in the middle of the night and crawl up his nose is a new one – I’m not entirely sure of its origin. “Pinecones don’t make sounds so stop shoving it in your ear” took a while to get rid of and “The drapes are not vines, watch something other than Tarzan” lasted about a week.
Many of my interactions have morphed into me telling him to ask his father and then hearing an exasperated sigh from whatever room they are residing in followed by yet another reiteration of how something isn’t a good idea. The list of interesting conversations with my son could fill a book but unfortunately I need to go stop him from giving ants a swimming lesson in his kiddy pool … for the fourth time today.
This article originally appeared on lyvingdedgurl.com.