Tuesday, August 16, 2011

That's the Impressionist I Get

 Morning Readers,

     No mother likes to be disillusioned. It hurts like a new pair of stilettos, stilettos that smell like crushed dreams and peppermint...possibly new car smell....possibly poop. No matter, new moms carry around false hope like bulk gum from Costco, constantly trying to get people to take a piece. "You want one? You sure? You sure? You toootally sure? Try it try it try it! Fine..more for me." 

     "They're really smart, aren't they? Probably the smartest babies I've ever met."

     My mother looked at me like a person looks at stray dog with one ear missing, and patted me on the arm. "Yes, honey. They're very bright."

     "I mean, they're really smart. I think it's high time they started developing their talents."

     She raised an eyebrow. "Talents? Sweetheart, they're only fifteen months old. They don't have any talents yet." She was doing it again, that thing where she had ten kids and thought she knew what she was talking about. Sure, she'd raised all of us, but none of us were special. Not terribly unfortunate looking, but....

     "Mom, I don't know if you're aware, but the twins are my children."

     "They are? That's a relief."

     "And as such, they have gifts. When my off-spring come of age, they shall write concertos which will make angels weep. Paint works capable of extracting hermits from caves. Write books old ladies will discuss at book clubs while eating Little Debbies. My children will be gen- ."
     "What did you have in mind, Dear?"


     "Crayons?" For a moment she was quite still and then began laughing the laugh of someone who knew something I didn't. "You're going to give them crayons...Paige, they still eat paper."

    "Laugh all you want, but they're ready. I know it. Now, you stop that laughing. Maybe all of us were too dumb to figure it out, but I'm really good at making people...smart people. So, you just wait."

     "Mmm..you just let me know how that goes."

     "I will. Would you like your portrait in mosaic or coal rubbing?"

     With that, I extracted the twin's fingers from their noses, bid adieu to the woman who reared me and went home.
     - Let it be noted, back when I was pregnant, I watched a lot of movies because I love the fine art that is cinema, but mostly because I needed to rent a U-Haul if I wanted to make it to the bathroom. One particular afternoon, while lying like a beached whale waiting for poachers, I watched the movie Amadeus. Tears streaming down my face, half-eaten chocolate bar in hand, I fell sideways and blubbered, "Oh Lord, that my children could do such things! Someone get me another mini donut!" -

     So, with visions of Mozart writing The Magic Flute, by candlelight, Husband and I set everything up in the living room, provided each fat hand with a crayon and a fresh pad of paper and stepped back to watch the magic happen. 


     "Yes." I replied, a little annoyed I had to hang up with the Smithsonian. I could only hope they still had shelf space. "What is it?" But as I looked down, I figured it out.

     "Maybe they're not ready."


     "Our kids are going to be the ones eating the glue, huh?" I hung my head.

     "Probably. They're your kids, after all. Hold on. I'll go get some paper towels to clean the wax out of their mouths..."

Until Next Time Readers!