I suddenly feel very old. Honeybear took Martin to sign up for the Boyscouts. Which wasn't emotional. What caused me to feel old-something I try not to worry about-was my sweet child, Madison.
As we sat reading a bedtime story (Green Eggs & Ham) the remaining four of us heard a crash. As we look up Jewels, Madison's kitten, streaks across the living room like her tail is on fire. We get up and check for damage.
Madison's beta, Carly, is flipping around like grease on a griddle. I scoop him up and grab a bowl. throw some water in, and pray he swims not floats. Luckily no floaters yet. After this I turn to Madison and say, "She's a regular Garfield, huh?"
Madison squints up at me, scrunches her nose up, and goes "Who?" Apparently I have let some of the kids' education slide. When I explain it was a cartoon from when I was her age. Degan pipes up with "Oh, then it's really old, right?" Talk about ripping my carefully constructed wall of nonchalance down. Thanks son, thanks.
Now after some serious consideration of the kids' objectives for the school months ahead I decided that cartoons can't be fit into any category. Oh well, guess I'll just have to face facts, it has officially begun-my kids consider me old. You know this doesn't bother me as long as I can keep them still thinking I know something.
When they figure out Honeybear and I don't know everything we're in serious trouble. They do outnumber us, a coup could easily happen. Hopefully I can blind them with my awesomeness till they're all out of the house. (It's my blog I can use ridiculous words like that if I want.)
I fear this isn't possible, whenever Honeybear or I don't know the answer we deflect to the other. I've noticed this is happening more often-one of them is bound to notice soon. Well Mama you know if you don't hear from me for three days- come looking for the duct taped parents hidden in the closet. But use caution they can bite, and one does have a BB gun and the other an archery set.