A little startling tap on the back, through bleary blinking eyes I field a question”, When I came out did I wear a dress?” It’s 6:30 am and I am awakened by a diminutive person with brilliant red hair affray, piercing light blue eyes, pink pouty lips and a heart shaped face. Every morning the same scenario plays out and every day I am unprepared to answer these questions. If I was slick I might rise an hour prior and caffeinate as preparation for the barrage of questions but, I am in denial, believing these impromptu press conferences are going to cease. My four year old daughter is the person giving the query.
Back to the question at hand about being clothed at birth, how I answer this question is critical. If I, being caught off guard give a terse or a deceitful response it will come back to haunt me for weeks, privately and publicly. My answer to this question will be repeated at school, to numerous strangers on line in front of us in Target and in the Post Office. I am of the mindset that these questions should be answered honestly, in a simple and non detailed fashion. For all of you non parents out there, you learn not to give detailed responses because they only lead to more questions. So, I respond, “No, you did not come out wearing a dress; we all come out wearing no clothing.
The question du jour was related to our upcoming vacation to Disney World, “When we go to Mickey’s House, can I hug Mickey’s Dad?” Initially, I want to just say yes and move on, because I did not get an adequate amount of sleep last night. But, then I realize that this is a trick question, as far as I know Mickey Mouse does not have a dad. My yes would have caused news about Mickey’s non-existent Dad to spread like wildfire. Accordingly, I respond, “No, you cannot hug Mickey’s Dad because he does not live at Mickey’s house.” Had I chosen to say that Mickey does not have a Dad that would have led to questions about death or a Dad that fled Mickey and his family.
Sometimes, I am posed the same question, several times worded differently at different times. I think, I have answered this one before; I feel as though I am experiencing de-ja-vu. Either my little interviewer is unsatisfied with my initial response or this is simply a game. Sometimes, I will be driving and a familiar question will be uttered and then before I have a chance to respond my original answer will be repeated by said questioner. Sometimes, I will have an opportunity to respond and then my answer will be repeated in a quizzical fashion. If you’ve even seen the movie Super Troopers envision the scene with the repeater game, where everything said is being repeated with the intonation to make it sound like a question. I think to myself, this child does not think my answer was believable.
One such quiz that I repeatedly fail or still have not provided a sufficient answer to is, “Why wasn’t I invited to your wedding” upon seeing the wedding picture hanging on the wall adjacent to my wedding invitation in my bedroom. The answer that I have been running with is, “Well, peanut, (my endearing nickname for my daughter) you were not invited because you were not born when Daddy and I got married.” Peanut always poses this question as though she is thoroughly insulted that she did not get the invitation. I am convinced she is certain that we had her babysitter come to watch her the day of the wedding.
Frequently, I smirk because the questions are clever and humorous to me, because I can just imagine the gears in my daughter’s mind turning. Many things that come out of my daughter’s mouth are funny. Her responses to questions and her bold statements are hysterical, (or wysterical, which is the way she pronounces the word) Dinnertime excuses to get out of eating dinner are plentiful. Vegetables or anything non-desirable to my Daughter’s palate are said to be “Not good for Hailey.” If she does not like the way something tastes it is immediately described as, “Too spicy,” Once, she got some salt water in her mouth at the beach and it was instantly, “Too spicy.”The funniest dinner avoidance reason came about two nights ago when she argued”, I cannot eat this hot dog because it tastes like salad. My husband pointed out that my Daughter, having never eaten salad, by her choice and therefore, would not know what salad tasted like.
While we are on the subject of food, yesterday, I was confided by my little girl that my dog needed a bath tomorrow because he smells like fish-sticks. My poor dog apparently smells like Gorton’s. The fact is the dog does need a bath but fish-sticks seem like a little bit of an excessive description.
Any slang, cuss word or expression of my frustration on my part inevitably comes back to haunt me because my child is a parrot. Not only does she repeat things but she applies them correctly to a given circumstance. Muttering under my breath, “Go bleep yourself” at someone that cuts me off while driving with two children in the car resurfaced. My husband was summoned into the kitchen because Hailey and I were making cupcakes and she wanted him to see dessert. Simultaneously, our dog decided he wanted attention and began barking in a boisterous fashion. My daughter turned around, kneeling on a chair and proclaimed, “Go Bleep yourself Fred” in the direction of our dog. My husband and I did our best to guise our laughter at the fact that she had applied the curse word correctly in a sentence. Immediately, I started to feel like a failure as a parent because my momentary lapse in judgment and potty mouth are now mirrored back to me by my child. If someone cuts me off again in the car, I am unable to say with certainty that I will refrain from spewing curses under my breath. Indiscretions like this are sometimes as involuntary as breathing for an adult.
The days seem long and monotonous for us right now from my perspective as a stay at home Mom. From the perspective of my Daughter I am certain her endless questions and regular dinnertime protests seem like a way to pass the quick days in fun fashion. I am well aware that Peanut has no concept of time or date at this point. Tomorrow, to my Daughter is known as, “in the other morning.” Anything that I earmark as a longtime from now, say three months is noted to be, “in two days.” The concept that Christmas is nearly four months off is irrelevant, the questions about presents and why we don’t have tree right now seem to persist. (-even after I reiterate that Christmas is a long time from now)
To me, she will always be my baby and I will continue to answer the endless questions and listen intently to the words which come out of her mouth. It comes with the territory of being a Mom. But, I will have you know that according to my Hailey, she is no one’s baby, she is a big sister.
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