Children Will Listen

This Thanksgiving I had the distinct privilege of watching my two nieces, ages 5 and 3 respectively.  Let us all give thanks that I am barren and without children.  Because I think my 48 hours with them will cost about $20k with a shrink.  Here are the top three incidents that confirmed the girls’ spot in psychotherapy:

First of all, the five year old was sick.  Kids are always sick, that’s to be expected.  The little germ factory was hard at work so I bought cold medicine.  The first dose went down without a problem.  That evening when it was time for round 2, Susy told me she did not like it.  I was in no position to argue so I went straight to Plan B.  “Well, you’ve got to do it like a shot.”  This received a puzzled look (as it should since she’s five), so I attempted to clarify:  “Let’s do it like a grown up – go get your juice.”  And I then demonstrated how to down a shot of Benadryl with an apple juice chaser.  She followed and then it was bedtime.  As I returned to the living room, I wondered if this was the first step to her future as an alcoholic.

The next day Elizabeth, the baby, wanted to play princess and had lots of questions about royalty (naturally I am the family authority on the subject).  “Are all fairies queens?” she asked.  Ignoring my respective audience, I responded, “No baby, but all queens are fairies.  We’ll go to Hillcrest when you come visit and I will show you.”  Hillcrest as you may already know is the gay neighborhood in San Diego; and as you’ve probably also ascertained, this response did not answer the question of a three-year old.  …but I couldn’t help it…I was a theatre major…

Before leaving for the airport this morning, the crazy basset hound (named Penny.  And Penny, if you’re reading this…I hate you.) that my sister  thought was “too cute” when she joined the family (not bitter) began barking AGAIN.  It barked all weekend – at dinner, when we tried to watch The Wonder Pets, when I wanted to sleep….  And since I have the patience of a Nazi solider, the dog and I had “words” previously over the weekend.  As I started to leave, she went nuts.  “PENNY!”  I snapped.  And - on cue - the five year old yelled, “SHUT THE HELL UP!”  I turned with a startled looked on my face which she (of course) read.  “Is that right?  Shut the hell up?” she asked.

“Yes Susannah, that’s right.  But let’s not tell your mother….”  Hey, at least it wasn’t “fuck.”