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Tag Archives: kids
Guess I’ll Be Handling All the Coming-Of-Age Talks
Eric sits down with Nora, who is playing with her new favorite toy– a box of tampons….
Eric: “Hey! Did you find a new toy? You like tampons? You’ll use tampons one day, you know. Dad’s not gonna wanna hear about it. (picks one up, examines wrapper) Look, this one says ‘L’ on it…and this one says ‘R’. Huh, they make different tampons for righties and lefties? Who knew!”
I’ve Finally Figured Out How to Handle This Situation
A man in the elevator smiles at Nora…
Man: “A boy, right?”
Me: “Sure, it’s possible.”
Man: 
Me: “No gender identity has been expressed yet….”
Man: 
Me: “She has a vagina, though.”
Man: 
Me: “Have a nice day!” (exit elevator. High five Nora.)
Sure I’ll Take Full Credit
I took Nora to a music class in the park this morning, and the kid next to her was dancing up a storm:
Me: “Look at her go! How old is she?”
Nanny: “Just turned one. Her Mom used to be a Rockette, so you can see she got the dancing gene.”
Me: “Totally! That’s great.”
Nanny: “Your baby has good rhythm too! You must be a really good dancer!”
Me: “Well, I don’t want to brag but….yes. Yes I am.”
Actual footage of me at my friend’s wedding this weekend:
Ebola Mom, Part 87
Age 70
Therapist: “How has the motherhood balance been going?”
Me: “Actually much better lately. I’m definitely finding my groove. There’s still just like a constant underlying worry/anxiety, though.”
Therapist: “Right. But I think it’s fair to say that’s just what it is to be a parent.”
Me: “So the worrying never goes away?”
Therapist: “I’d say maybe around age 70.”
Me: “I have to wait until I’m 70?!”
Therapist: “No- until Nora is 70.”
Me: “But I’ll be dead.”
Therapist: “Exactly.”
Starts With an F
Completing sentences with words from a word bank. One of the words is “friend.”
Me: “It’s always nice to make a new….”
Kid: <blank stare>
Me: “Starts with an ‘f’…”
Kid: “FUCK.”
He’s not wrong.
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.>
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.”
Accurate
She really is a scarily 50/50 blend of me and Eric.
We’re hoping the Eric side wins out.
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