On A Lighter Note

If you’ve never seen a teddy bear full-on faceplant into a full bowl of soup, trust me when I say it’s quite a sight.

It’s A Confucian Catch-22

Even so, despite what I said yesterday, in the grand scheme of things it’s truly not that big a deal if a parent calls their child “my baby,” which is why a respectful child should endure it despite any insult or indignity they feel.

Mind you, a child feeling insulted by the term is precisely why a respectful parent shouldn’t call them that.

Even When No Insult Is Intended

While I admit that it seems unlikely to me that there has never been a child that actually liked being called “my baby” by a parent, I’m willing to bet the ones that do like it are few and far between.

If you don’t understand why, just consider how often “baby” is used as an insult when directed at non-babies, and how especially dire an insult that can be to a child old enough to understand they are not a baby anymore.

Neither Did Mom, But That Was On Purpose

Mom visited us recently, and as she was getting ready to leave, she asked for a “goodbye hug from her baby.”

Afterwards, L’s Mother turned to L. and said, basically, “See? I know you don’t like it when I call you ‘my baby,’ but your dad just got called ‘baby’ by his mother and he didn’t complain.”

No . . . no, I didn’t, but she obviously didn’t see the look of utter revulsion that crossed my face.

When Probability IS Your Friend

I’ve talked before about my grandmother and her ability to see possibilities, and I’ve alluded that this is a trait that I share. I’ve also talked a little bit about knife safety.

Today those worlds collided as I, a little too casually, grabbed a knife and instantly foresaw how if just the wrong number of things happened in just the wrong way, I could do myself a serious mischief. Pausing, I adjusted my grip on the knife and said to myself, “That would have been a stupid way to die.”

That’s the good side of seeing possibilities.

The bad side is that after I said that I also briefly foresaw in unnecessary detail the trauma such self-inflicted mischief would have had on the rest of the household. That’s the point I had to remind myself just how unlikely such a scenario would be, and that I’ve already corrected the problem in any event.

Good thing I’m used to this.

And That’s When I Knew Her Day Was REALLY Bad

L’s Mother: I’m not having a good day, and I also don’t feel well, so I’m going to take a bath while I’ve got the chance.

Me: (Knowing that we’ve had lightning strikes in our area recently.) Would you like me to check the weather for you first so you don’t get electrocuted and die?

L’s Mother: *pauses just a little too long before answering*

And Pokemon Go . . . And Pocket Camp . . .

The next time someone asks me, “How familiar are you with technology?”, I’m just going to answer, “I’ve had evening plans delayed due to Minecraft.”

I Doubt I’ll Ever Give It Up Entirely Though

It was a hard road to walk since I started leaning on morning coffee after the birth of my son, but I’m actually happy that me drinking coffee in the morning is now a rare enough event to warrant playful concern.

I’m Guessing Not That Many

Sometimes I wonder how many other people’s workdays are interrupted by a turtle laying eggs in the backyard.

Inspired By A Supposedly True Story

It’s got to be uniquely disheartening to discover that you have the brain patterns of a psychopath, and when you break the news to your friends and family their response is, “Yeah . . . that makes sense.”