Just when you think you know somebody…
When you think you have this motherhood thing licked.
My kid rained on my parenting parade this weekend…my friggin’ kid.
I love her. I really do. But are we really at "that" age where mother and daughter seem to be from different planets instead of being of the same body?
So. I’m talking casually to Cheyenne about…I can’t remember what, when she throws this question at me: "Is God a human?"
Before I can say anything, she answers herself. "Well, probably not. Jesus was a human once, but now he’s not. WE are humans…but God…he’s kind of like a big fairy, isn’t he?"
Apparently she had this all figured out before I could think of an answer to her first question. It’s my fault, really. I know we would all do well to make it to church on Sundays…but that’s an entirely different blog entry in itself.
Later that very day, we were sitting around watching "Dumbo" together with Mia. Towards the beginning, workers were busy putting up the circus tent. There wasn’t a white man in sight. Cheyenne made this observation and again started with the questions.
"How come all the circus workers are black? Are they slaves?"
"No, honey, they weren’t slaves, but…"
"Oh. Yeah. The elephants must’ve been more comfortable with them since they looked like they were from Africa."
"No, Cheyenne, no. That’s not exactly it." Where are you getting this stuff, kid?
Halfway through the movie, Dumbo and his mouse get schnockered on spiked water. They wind up in a tall tree, and can’t remember anything that happened.
"How come they don’t remember that Dumbo flew, Mom?" Cheyennne asked.
"Well, they were drinking alcohol, and alcohol sometimes makes you forget things you did. Also, you might do things you wouldn’t normally do if you hadn’t been drinking alcohol. And normally, Dumbo wouldn’t have even thought of flying."
"Oooohhh. So getting drunk was a very good thing for Dumbo," said Cheyenne, again coming to her own conclusion before I could get started on my lecture.
Crap! Not the desired effect I was hoping to achieve by that question/answer session. I’m at a loss for words. Now I have to add "Dumbo" to my list of questionable children’s movies.
Sunday, at "The Halloween Express":
"How about this costume, Mom?"
I looked. I shouldn’t have. The picture on the package featured a 10 year old as "Dorothy-Gale-gone-slut". Who actually buys this stuff for their kids? Moreover, who decides to sell it and market it towards the 8-12 age group?
I suppose Cheyenne was just trying to soften me up for her next pick, which was considerably less promiscuous, but still had a touch of trashy, and I’m not exactly sure what the hell it’s supposed to be–a punky/ghoulish/cheerleader outfit?
"That’s fine, Cheyenne, but you’ll have to wear a turtleneck under it."
"Oh, that’s okay, Mom. I don’t mind being cold." And she gleefully skipped off to the counter with the sexy-ish costume.
"No, Cheyenne. Actually I meant you’d have to wear the turtle neck because you don’t need to be showing off our belly button or half your chest. And you’ll probably have to wear tights, too. But that is because of the cold weather." I said as I paid for the costume.
Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed and her smile turned into a snarl.
"Mooom. Give me a break. This costume is not that bad. I mean, the Wizard of Oz costume was really bad. But I didn’t get that one because I thought this one really looked okay."
"So, why did you show me the Dorothy costume in the first place? And it doesn’t matter; either way, my daughter is not walking out into the town looking like jailbait. You’re wearing the turtleneck and that’s that."
"Then I’m not wearing the costume at all."
"Yes you are. I just paid for it and I can’t return it. You’re wearing it."
"Humpff." Cheyenne pouted for a few minutes as we walked out of the store.
"What does ‘jailbait’ mean?"
I am truly not ready for her to get any older than she is already.