Sometimes, as a parent, you get these really cool ideas about all the neat things you’re going to do together with your child.
Unfortunately, soon after they’re born children tend to develop their own personalities and opinions.
In other words, reality sets in and ruins your golden little dream.
Here’s a good example:
Before the DragonMonkey was born I had the greatest little scenario I’d like to imagine. There I’d be, leaning back on my couch, my tiny son curled up on my chest, cuddled all warm and soft against me. I’d lean my head down and breathe in his baby scent, then lay my cheek against him, close my eyes, and smile….
See? Isn’t that a great daydream?
For weeks I tried to get The DragonMonkey to comply. I’d tuck him against me, and hum to him, and pat his back, and swaddle, and unswaddle, and do everything possible to make him live out my little mommy-fantasy, but he wasn’t having anything to do with it. Fall asleep while being held? Are you kidding? There’s entirely too much to look at it! Kick, kick! Wiggle, wiggle!
One evening I came home from a late shift at my old bartender job only to be met at the door by a incredibly smug Bean.
“Guess who fell asleep on Dada’s chest?”
“What? How? You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ve been trying to get him to do that for weeks! How’d you make him.. How…?”
“I guess he just wanted his Dada,” he said, oozing superiority like some kind of palpable disease.
Sometimes I think it should be legal, moral, and totally acceptable to kick your husband in his shins. I’m just sayin’.
Of course, I wasn’t the only one with a dream..
Before the DragonMonkey’s birth The Bean haughtily informed me that we weren’t going to have a lot of those silly, plastic kids toys in our house.
“And no dumb baby books, either. If he doesn’t ever get any, he won’t know what he’s missing.”
“So, what, he’s just going to pick up reading by osmosis?”
“No, we’ll get him good books. Educational books.” He paused for a moment, dreamy-eyed. “He can visit his dada at work once he’s older, and he’ll sit there by my desk, working on a math book all afternoon, because he won’t know any different.”
“Oh, reeeeeally? And just how old is he, in this scenario?”
“I dunno. Don’t give me that look! I don’t mean taking him as a little baby. I mean, I know he’ll have to grow up a bit first. Maybe two years old?”
Ha ha ha.
It’s okay – you can laugh at The Bean with me. He’s used to it by now.
So where am I going with this?
Here is where I am going with this:
There I was, sitting there at the world’s longest red light, and I thought to myself— Wow. I really want to sing me some Rick Astley.
And HEY, how cool would it be if I could teach the DragonMonkey to sing along with me?
Obviously, that would be really, really cool.
Man, I better drag out my phone and record this. This is going to be epic. We are so going to have a really cool, wonderful, remember-that-time-when-you-were-two-and-we-sang-Rick-Astley-together bonding moment right now.
I really don’t know what I thought was going to happen.—did I really think he was just going to burst out into song with me and the two of us would be some kind of harmonious, uber-cool Rickrolling mother-son team?
The kid can’t even pronounce the word “bubbles”. He still calls his oatmeal “Nonope”. Seriously, what was I thinking?
Oh well….. another dream dashed by reality.
Of course, I guess if it really was my dream I should probably have tried to learn the right lyrics. It wasn’t until I listened to it a second time that I realized I was singing “lay” instead of “let”. Apparently my Rick Astley carries me everywhere.