After hearing that sweet little girl (i keep saying sweet…she may be a royal brat, who knows!) speak about her mother’s frustration, I moved on from the library, and helped Jack’s kindergarten class paint t-shirts.
I warned a little boy, “Don’t wipe that paint on your shirt. I wouldn’t want your mom to be upset at me, for letting you get paint on your shirt.”
He was five. He over-shared, “Yeah. Me either. My mom’s mean. She would yell at me, if I got paint on my shirt. Sometimes she spanks me.”
Here I was again, in that uncomfortable spot, hearing words, that could easily come from my child, from an objective point of view.
I couldn’t help but wonder…
WHAT IN THE HELL IS MY KID SHARING ABOUT ME?!? I wonder, though I probably don’t really want to know, what he says about me to his friends, teachers, and other moms.
Does he share about my irrational rants and raves?
Does he tell his teacher that he makes his own breakfast on the weekends, while his dad and I sleep?
Does he tell people that when he wakes up on some Saturday mornings there are empty beer bottles and wine glasses on the counter, the Yahtzee game left on the table, and a pile of his parents clothes next to the dining room table? Surely the kids are too young to connect any dots, but, his teachers might be able to. I’m sure they’ve played strip-Yahtzee in their day…
Soon, it was Jack’s turn, and I helped my boy paint his shirt. A few other kids were painting, too, with some other volunteers. The kids are so cute, and one of them asked me, with a slight lisp, as the air passed through the place where his front two teeth used to be, “Are you Jack’s mom?”
“I sure am. What’s your name?”
Before Travis could tell me that was his name, in front of two teachers, five kindergarteners, and another mother, Jack said, “Yeah, that’s my mom. She just got a tattoo on her finger. And she has another one on her butt.”
Bright side? At least my future fuck-sayer didn’t say “she has another one on her ass!”
I think the obvious answer to my questions, is a resounding…YES! Yes, my kids probably over share about me, at school. But, so do yours…
What’s the saying?
I won’t believe what your kid tells me about you, if you don’t believe what my kid tells you about me!