"Look Daddy! Finger the weatherman!"
I don't think it matters what the explanation is, but having your daughter say that and expecting you to turn around is an unsettling experience. Fortunately I did have a tiny window into how that appalling statement was made. She was eating apple and cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. Which generally is called "apples and cinnaminaminamon" in our house. I don't even know how to verbalize cinnamon the normal way anymore. God help me if I need ot say that in public because I'll say it the long way. Actually my daughtre agrees with me that a there should be a cinnamon flavor of M&Ms called CinnaminaminM&Ms.
Anyway - her brother was eating strawberries and cream oatmeal. Which also has also been bastardized to be known colloquially as ROOOOAAAARberries and SCREAM!!! A name that - in hindsight - I wish we hadn't agreed on as it makes breakfast at 6am jarringly loud. Regardless my daughter sought to jazz up the name of her breakfast even more than usual. Somehow she morphed the word "cinnamon" into "weatherman." Then she took this finger-bat (no - I meant to write that) and fed it some oatmeal. Obviously she judged the trajectory all wrong and plunged the little bugger right into her breakfast. And then cried, "Look Daddy! Finger the weatherman!!"
Actually today has been all about terrifying one another. First up I slapped on the rigid, botox-banana-death-mask (send them in Google - and tell them their Home...) that I picked up as a Halloween alternative costume and went after the kids. It is pretty dark in points, but I think that actually helps with the experience.
There's a genuine lilt in their voices there where they are actually a little bit frightened. Which is why my daughter and I put on masks and did it again.
That'll learn him. And just to really rub it in my daughter ran around after him with this scary face she amde at school. I asked her who it was this morning and she just said, "just a monster." I kept asking leading questions like, "is it your mother?" but she wouldn't bite. Not like her mother does.
After his sister went to school I think he thought all the emotional torment was over. But no. Because right now he's mad at me for saying candy is horrible. It is too. I was actually making that bland, vague point that it's bad for you because he seemed to think that it wasn't strange at all to demand lollipops for lunch. But that morphed into me saying "and another thing - I think candy is horrible." Then - in an epically stupid parental move - I told him to try one of the dolmas I was eating. Because as we all know when a kid asks for candy what they really want is a slimy, green leaf that looks like a caterpillar chryssalis dipped in semen. But he seemed to think I was making a declaration and that any differing opinion on the matter is absolutely outlawed. It's sort of reminiscent of that weird political era in 2001/2 when the entire political discourse was dictated by The War On Terror supporters (or TWATS if, you like intentionally offensive acronyms). I tried to let him know that it's just me who thinks that candy is horrible, but he's behaving like I need to apologize for my blasphemy.
Which actually has worked out well for both of us. He's been horrendously clingy this week. This little spat between us has led to him storming off into the other room and playing furiously with himself (a prescient Nostradamus-style indication of his teenage years I feel). Which has allowed me to write this bloody thing this morning. Actually I hadn't even looked at the silly notes I'd scribbled notes I'd written down on the A4 pad in the kitchen for a week and now I can't make head nor tale of them. The first one says "Madonna - like a cat's tongue" which is revoltingly obvious. But the second one says "automatic writing Jim Belushi/Delboy." No idea. Of the other two I can actually read (two lines of incomprehensible serial-killer scribbling are lost to time, it seems) one is about an idea I had for a series of amusing Facebook status updates. The notion being you'd just go quiet for a week or two and then start posting strange but still oddly chipper updates. Just stuff like "Wow. It's really hard to drown the kids in the bath. They're slippery little buggers!"And then half hour later, "One down!" The point and context of all that is lost on my now. The other scribble I can read is the intriguing, "Is my son a horse? Must run tests." I think it's a happy coincidence that my wife sold her old horse saddle at this point.
Anhoo - I'll leave you with this bat-on-a-stick that my daughter made. Halloween in this country is very odd in the fact that it is very big and popular for kids and made safe, cutesy and twee. This bat - a blood-thirsty rabid evil bastard in pretty much every Halloween scenario I can think of - evokes that saccharine cuteness in every way.