My son may look back on his childhood and say "What on earth was Mom thinking?"
I'm trying, Noah. It's just that sometimes, my good intentions and thoughtful interpretations, and my smothering style of mothering.... means that things get lost in translation. (Plus I'm as forgetful as ... uh, what analogy was I going to use again??)
Last night at the swimming pool, I realized post-swim that our towel was sitting, neatly folded, on the front seat of the truck. So Noah endured a pat down with sandpaper-quality paper towel, and a rake from the hairbrush because I remembered the shampoo but forgot the conditioner.
It's no wonder he went streaking from the women's change room at the exact moment that I was down to my underwear and looking - fruitlessly - for clean pants to put on Noah for the ride home.
I got dressed as quick as I could. But remember, we had no towel, so getting my soaked legs into my jeans took a few seconds longer than usual. I threw on whatever shirt I could find (inside out) and chased my naked son out to the lobby.
"NOAH!" I bellowed. (Oh no, I'm becoming one of THOSE mothers.) "Get your naked booty over here!"
Once I had my naked, kicking child under my arm, I tried to look calm and serene as I escorted him (hair unbrushed, jeans soaked, and t-shirt on backwards and inside out!) back to the women's change room. I sat him down on the bench and looked into his wide brown eyes. "Noah, what can happen if you run away from Mommy?"
"Um... I can get squished by a car!"
"Right. What else can happen?"
"Um... someone can take me!"
"Right, and then what?"
"They might hurt me. They might make me eat vegetables. The bad people might even ADOPT ME!"
Oh goodness, Noah. Please. Please understand that adoption is a good thing and not a threat. You're not going anywhere! Come to think of it, neither are your vegetables.
