Tag Archives: children

Hermoso

Almost every day, Nora and I go into the same corner store as part of our morning routine. Everyone knows us there. And every single time we go in, the guy working the deli counter smiles at Nora and says “Ah, hermoso!”

Now, I’m no Spanish expert (despite having taken Spanish in middle school, high school, and part of college…) but I’m pretty sure “hermoso” means beautiful for a boy, whereas if you were to call a girl beautiful, you would say “hermosa.”

So either the deli guy thinks Nora is a boy, and has thought this for 9 months now, or he is simply using the word “hermoso” as a gender-neutral term. Since my Spanish knowledge is spotty (#ivyleagueeducation imgres-2), I really couldn’t be sure.

So today we conducted an experiment. I put Nora in the girliest, most unmistakably feminine outfit she owns:

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We enter the store:

Deli Guy: “Ahhhh! Hermoso! Is very nice dress! Pretty butterflies!”

Me (relieved that he is obviously using ‘hermoso’ interchangeably, and has known all along Nora is a girl): “Aww gracias! That’s very nice!”

Deli Guy: “Ah de nada! You very welcome.”

(I smile and begin to walk towards dairy section)

Deli Guy: “But why he wear dress?”

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Totally Imperceptible

Me (to myself, in the mirror): “Ok, this [insert any unsightly skin imperfection– zit, wrinkle, mole, scar] is really bothering me, but I’m sure it’s one of those things that only I notice, and it’s totally imperceptible to everyone else.” (Vow not to focus on it. Convince self it’s not even there.)

10 minutes later, wake Nora up.

Nora: <Opens eyes. Immediately zooms in on skin imperfection with sniper-like focus. Lunges at it with two hands. Slaps it. Twists it between her little devil fingers. Tries to yank it off. Bites at it. Cackles maniacally.>

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Like My Toilet

Kid: “You smell like my toilet.”
Me: “Excuse me? That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
Kid: “But it’s true though!”
Me: “Do your math.”
 
One hour later, after I use his bathroom and notice he has the same hand lotion on his toilet that I use.
 
Me: “Wait! So did you mean I smell like that lotion you keep on your toilet?”
Kid: “Yeah. That’s what I said– you smell like my toilet.”
Me: “There’s a better way to say that.”
Kid: “Oh, sorry.”
(pause)
Kid: “You smell the SAME as my toilet.”
 
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I Think I Know My Own Kid

Nanny: “Nora should be holding her own bottle for her feedings.”

Me: “I KNOW. Believe me I’ve tried, but she just won’t do it.”

Nanny: “You just make her do it and she will do it.”

Me: “You think I haven’t tried ‘making’ her do it?! She won’t do it! Honestly, I don’t think she can yet. She’s not ready.”

Nanny: “She is ready.”

Me (annoyed): “Ok, I appreciate your input, but I think I know my own kid.”

One hour later:

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That cunning little minx.

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Bilingual

My sister: “It’s great having a nanny from Colombia because now Tyler is learning to speak Spanish.”

Me: “Yeah I mean that’s cool and all but anyone can learn Spanish– they teach that in school. Thanks to my nanny Nora will learn to speak…

(googles language of Trinidad)

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Oh.

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Goddamnit.

Infinity

Kid: “What’s the highest number?”

Me: “There is no highest number. Numbers keep going and going and going…they are infinite.”

Kid: “What’s infinite?”

Me: “Having no end. Numbers go to infinity…”

Kid: “Then that’s the end. Infinity.”

Me: “Well, no– the very definition of infinity is ‘no end.'”

Kid: “So infinity is NOT the highest number?”

Me: “Infinity isn’t actually even a number, it’s a concept.”

Kid: “What’s a concept?”

Me: “Like, an idea…”

Kid: “So infinity is the highest idea?”

Me: “Well, no, there’s no ‘highest idea.’ That’s not a thing.”

Kid: “I don’t get it. What’s infinity then?”

Me: “It’s hard to explain.”

Kid: (silence)

Me: (prays conversation is over)

Kid: “So like, is there an infinity and one?”

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Where DO They Go?

Me: “I think I’ve been a pretty reasonable parent so far. I just really want to avoid being the parent who cares TOO much– who hovers and obsesses and worries about every little thing her child does. But I definitely catch myself acting that way sometimes, so I fear I’m totally becoming that parent.”

Therapist: “You said you have a nanny part-time. Do you find it hard to relinquish control when the nanny comes to take care of Nora?”

Me: “Oh my god, NO. I count the seconds til she gets there and it’s an immediate hand off, as if we’re in a baton relay.”

Therapist: “Ok. And are Nora and the nanny always in sight when you’re home?”

Me: “What? No! The nanny immediately takes her out of the apartment.”

Therapist: “And where do they go?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

Therapist (10 second silence): “Yeah I don’t think you’re that parent who cares too much.”

Me: url

Therapist: “You might want to ask the nanny where they go.”

 

 

Small

Kid: “How come you never wear your big diamond ring anymore?”
Me: “My engagement ring? I do. Just not all the time. I take it off when I go to the gym and sometimes forget to put it back on before I leave for the day.”
Kid: “Is your husband mad that you don’t wear it?”
Me: “No.”
Kid: “But now no one knows you have a husband! It’s like you’re not even married.”
Me: “Well, that’s not true. But regardless, I always wear my wedding band.”
Kid: “Huh?”
Me (point to wedding ring on left hand) “This. This is the ring my husband gave me at our wedding.”
Kid: “But that’s so small!!”
Me: “It’s not that sm—“
Kid: “No one will be able to see that it’s so small!”
Me: “Ok I mean I disagree but–”
Kid: “I CAN’T EVEN SEE IT AND I’M SITTING RIGHT HERE IT’S SO SMALL.”

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