Chapter Four – Perfect in every way

me-2-oppositeKids – Definition: children; offspring; descendants; of one’s loins and uterus; from imagination’s fancy; whatever!  What gave them the idea that once they emerged from their well-kept, well fed environment, they could simply do what they want?  We didn’t have our kids for THEM!  We had them for us!  If we knew they were going to go off and join the circus, or have horns permanently attached to their heads, would we have them?  I don’t think so!  And once they’re outta there, we hold up to our part of the bargain.  We feed them, clothe them, spend hours teaching them how to walk and talk, read, ride a bike, and about a billion other lessons that aren’t quite as tangible.  Do they think we teach them for their benefit?  NO!  We go through all of this so they will be what WE want them to be!

What that means is, we want them to be “perfect;” not in a god-like sort of way, just perfect to US! That means if we don’t like tattoos, THEY don’t like tattoos.  If we don’t like pierced navels, THEY don’t like pierced navels. If we don’t like Van Morrison, (no seriously!)  Then THEY don’t like Van Morrison.  Right?

This seems to work quite well between the ages of say . . . in the womb to about thirteen, and then it all backfires!  I’m not sure what they’re thinking at this point. It can’t be anything good because their brains aren’t working.  But somehow, they get the idea that their life is their own!  The gall!  The nerve!  I didn’t have them so they would turn on me!

What makes them suddenly think that we’re the enemy anyway?  Their own mothers!  For shame!

It only gets worse from there! They become agitated and angry by the most miniscule things.  An innocent question sets them off like a firecracker!   “Honey, could you please shut the door?”  “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?  YOU DON’T’ EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH HOMEWORK I HAVE!  I’M NOT YOUR PERSONAL SLAVE YOU KNOW!”  They become morose and sullen, except when surrounded by their secret society of friends. They bar the doors to their rooms, in OUR homes!  Suddenly, it’s “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME!”

DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU?  I made you!  I raised you!  I CREATED YOU!

Yet somehow, in that instant, you realize that you DON’T understand them.  Who are these . . . creatures?  I think that we should place them all in suspended animation between the ages of thirteen and twenty one.  We should attach them to a brain “thingy” (that’s a highly scientific term) that teaches them everything they need to know about becoming just like us.  But seeing as they haven’t perfected that technology yet, I guess we’ll just have to muddle through.  It’s all very confusing, and more than a little disconcerting.

Let’s jump ahead!  Okay, there they are, twenty or thirty something’s, and . . . What’s this? It’s a miracle!  They aren’t ME, (you know cause I don’t have tattoos and stuff) but they’re amazing!  They’re incredible.  They’re smart, funny, gifted, caring, loving people, just LIKE me.

Ha!  Well, wadda ya know!   How did that happen?  WHEN did it happen?

Ahhhh.  .  . I’m so proud of them!  They’ve turned out exactly how I thought they would, perfect in every way!

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