I admit that I’m not the kind of parent who monitors everything my kids watch on TV and sometimes, when they don’t go to bed as early as I’d like, I let them stay up and watch frivolous comedies like “Anchorman” and “Kicking and Screaming” featuring Will Ferrell, or the cult favorite “Napoleon Dynamite.” Herein lies the problem. When your three year old repeats everything he hears, suddenly lines from the movies that you’d rather keep private are now in the public domain or in his case…pre-school. When he blurted out “It’s so damn hot…milk was a bad choice,” to his teacher and then chanted “Vote for Pedro” on a recent airplane trip and then last night shouted “Way to go Bing Bong,” I realized it’s time to either enforce his curfew or be subjected to a Disney marathon until he finally falls asleep
I took my son on a playdate to Borders one afternoon with another five year old boy and his aunt. The boys chose some books to take back to the cafe part of the book store where they looked at books at ate some pretzels. When they were finished looking at their books, they saw this small rack next to the cards with mini books – like a Snoopy book, a book on hugs, a book on chocolate, and a book we were given because it was a “mommy and daddy” book. They were both so proud to hand over this book. Just take a guess at which “mommy and daddy” book it was…The Karma Sutra! Not only did they bring us one, they brought us 3 copies!!
I’m running late to pick up my daughter from gymnastics class and I plead with my son to stop watching his “Dora the Explorer” video so that we can jump in the car and get his sister. “But Mommy, I want to watch my show. Can’t we take the TV with us?” I respond, “No, sorry, we can’t do that.” To which he replies, “Why? Because the plug isn’t long enough?”
Dylan is quite upset when he wakes up one morning to find a huge mosquito bite on his leg. “Mommy, it won’t stop itching! Make it stop!” he whines. “Why did the mosquito bite me?” I tell him that he was hungry and was looking for a bite to eat and his leg seemed like the perfect entree. Then I start joking with him and say, “Why don’t we name the mosquito that bit you. Let’s call him Murray the mosquito.” In my head, I start concocting a crazy tale about Murray on a frantic search for food when Dylan replies, “Mommy, you can’t name the mosquito Murray, insects don’t have names!” The kid is only four years old and yet he’s already onto me. Sheesh!