Thinking the worst of your kids …

When did this happen? When they were babies I thought of them as these perfect little chubby balls of happiness … except when they were screaming and projectile vomiting … oh, and crapping all the way up their backs.

Now that they are older, I constantly assume they are manipulating and/or lying to me.

That can’t be a good attitude to have towards your children.

Youngest came in this morning, happy as a clam, skipping to my bed. When I caught sight of his face, I reared back in disgust … and almost immediately wondered “what did you do!”

He was covered in, what appeared in the dim morning light of my bedroom, chocolate. Not for one minute in that first interaction with him did I assume it was anything other than his own doing. I was picturing a secret stash of Twix bars under his bed and, after a particularly heartbreaking attempt to build a superior LEGO warship than his brother’s, him diving into the chocolate, crying and eating his inadequacies away. NO, that has absolutely NEVER happened to me personally.

Turns out he had a bloody nose in the middle of the night. In my 12 years of parenting, this has NEVER happened. I almost felt like it was a secret gift from the Mommy Fairy (or as I call her, the Sadistic Killer of Happy Dreams). “Well, you’ve had everything else, let’s throw this at her.” How could I have missed the bloody nose after all these years??

And the excitement in the household! It was palpable. My youngest, “did you see my sheet, Dad? Did you see it? Blood … everywhere!! Hey, guys, did you hear about my nose?? There’s a huge pool of blood in my bed!! Don’t go in my room … it’s gross!! There’s blood everywhere!” (as he leads them into his bedroom).

I can imagine his little mind working on just how precisely he would present this to his teacher and his class today. He takes after me, so the exaggeration would probably be boundless. I’m worried I’m going to get an email from the teacher checking in to make sure there wasn’t a dead body in his room last night.

He decided, after me wiping his face off, that he wanted to leave a little blood on his hand … a souvenir perhaps? My guess is proof that it happened. “Look guys!! Real blood!!! From my nose!!!”.

Eh, I let him.


One response »

  1. I was cracking up


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