|"I'll never sound like you. Ever." "Son, you're a fool."|
This is my third consecutive day without coffee, which would be more of a tragedy if there was some sort of coffee shortage instead of me being too lazy to go buy more. As it is, I'm drinking tea and, while I feel more refined, the box said it has minor laxative side effects, so it may be time to restock the tea as well.
But, we didn't gather here today to talk about regularity. Nay, this morning's topic lands carefully on the subject of sounding like one's parent. When I was a young thing, decked out in braces and hair that considered styling tools dangerous strangers, I made a vow to myself.
"Paige," says I.
"When I have kids, I'll never be mean or yell at them."
"That's great, but why are you still doing the whole third person thing?"
"For effect. Now, listen. The chances of my children being disobedient is probably slim-to-none, but, on the off-chance they get a little headstrong, I'll patiently correct them, and that should remedy the situation."
"Have I ever used "remedy" in a sentence?"
"You're missing the point. I'll be kind and patient and never yell. I'll simply make direct eye contact and my children will know what needs to be done around the house. My parents yell because they don't understand children. And I pity them."
"That's great. Wanna go hang up some new Hanson posters?"
Life, as it usually does, has come full circle and deposited three of my very own blessings on the doorstep. Have I kept my vow to myself? I can't be totally sure, but I feel the statements coming out of my mouth lately are strangely familiar:
"I'm not talking just to hear myself talk."
"Don't throw your clothes in the hallway. I'm not the live-in maid."
"I just bought that milk, and it's already gone! If you're thirsty, drink water."
"Don't waste that. Whatever you're wasting costs money."
"If you're going to fight, do it upstairs."
"If you want to run around, do it upstairs."
And so on.
Do I sound like my parents? Maybe. But, in my mind, I'll always be cooler. Now, I'm off to stop the kids from crushing crackers into the carpet. Those cost money.
Until Next Time, Readers!