Mommy, Don't Dawdle

Yesterday, the inevitable happened. My son realized that I was handicapped.

We were walking to kung fu classed when he started telling me, "Mommy, you're dawdling." I thought this was hilarious and had no idea what he was talking about, which is often the case.

While Jeff's dad was reading to him before bed, I came in to reaccount the story. Jeff remembered that he had said this. He showed his dad the way I walk...it was actually frightenly accurate. Then, Jeff gave me some hints on how to walk the "right way." He told me that I just had to practice.

This morning he asked me if I had been practicing.

Needless to say, this has put me in a mood. (Not to mention the fact that I can't go ice skating because it's raining today.) But, I think I shouldn't take it so hard. I think there is that moment in life (or many of them) when children see that their parents are not perfect. They wake up one day and say "my parents are poor, or can't spell, or are selfish, or, well, can't walk straight."

Then, they might say, as Jeff did: "If anyone is mean to my mom, I'll ignore them. I won't be their friend." Or, if he's really pissed, "I'll make them smoke a cigarette."