So the Princess walks up to me today, looking for all the world very perplexed. Having heard all about Charlie, and being told both at school and at home, not to indulge in the foolishness, my daughter has had something dawn on her. Something that apparently burned in her heart until not too long ago.
“Mommy? Can I ask you something and you won’t get mad at me?”
I prepared myself for the worst, cataloging all the funny sounds I’ve heard in the last few hours, noting that there hadn’t been any blood curdling screams or piercing wails. I mentally ran through my checklist of all the things I wouldn’t miss too much if they go broken or destroyed. I also ran through the list of appropriate parental responses for various situations that I had come up with a while back. I also glanced around to make sure both her brothers where whole.
“OK” I ventured. Still not sure what this could be about. It occurred to me that this confession of doom might just be well placed since The Grandmother (kinda our version of the Godfather, but you know, matriarchal.) had come to take her away.
“Mommy, if calling out the name Charlie and two pencils is calling a demon, does that mean that we have to get rid of all the pencils in the house before we speak to grandpa?” Grandpa in this case is called Charlie.
I know some of my friends are going to say, that only my child would come up with such a thing, and that I deserve it for my own smart mouthed transgressions. But still, I can see the logic in the leap.
When I finally caught my breath, I assured the child that no demonic hosts would be birthed into this world if she told her Grandpa hello, while holding a pencil.
Our poor kids, what kind of world are they growing up in?