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Saturday, September 29, 2007

Conspiracy Theory #25 - Inherited Insanity

My Mom used to tell me that insanity was inherited - you get it from your children.

And to think I didn't believe her.

When I was a child, my imaginary world wasn’t limited to Barbie kingdoms and unicorns and frogs that, for whatever reason, would magically become handsome princes when you kissed them. Quite often, I was onstage as a world famous rock star, or I was designing beautiful and complex houses (to a 5 year old, that is) as an architect. I even dug up ancient dinosaur bone once as an archeologist (which my Dad convinced me, after an hour and a half of arguing, was only an old dried up pork chop bone).

Most often though, I donned a raggedy brown and white baby blanket around my neck and was Supergirl, Defender of All that was Fair and Just.

Following in the family tradition of superhero pretend, my oldest daughter has become Captain Obvious.

Only, she’s not pretending.

Oh sure, it was cute for the first little while. I realized that, like most children, my daughter is very intelligent and only wanted to flex her intellectual muscles for all to see.

It only became a problem when normal conversation (keep in mind that she’s 5 – I use the term “normal conversation” loosely) became completely impossible with her. For anyone who doesn’t have children, a typical conversation with my daughter goes something like this:

“Sweetheart, tell me what happened to the lamp.”

“Momma…the lamp is broken.”

“I see that it’s broken, what happened?”

“It’s broken.”

Sigh. “Yes, I know it’s broken, how did it get broken?”

This can go on for hours – and this isn’t the worst case scenario. My daughter pops out with random statements of unmistakable perception at any and all times. “Momma, that’s your shirt,” and “Momma, I sit on the couch” are common, as well as “Momma, look, my nose” and “Momma, I farted,” even though I’m sure everyone for two counties heard it.

With as much attention to detail as this child displays, it amazes me how often she forgets her pants in the mornings.

So, like any other obnoxious habit my children pick up, I’ll just breathe deeply and tell myself repeatedly that she’ll grow out of it…I hope.

Come to think of it, my Mom also used to tell me she hoped I would grow up and have kids that drove me twice as crazy as I drove her.

Thanks Mom.
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