The vast majority of the time, I feel like I'm a really great mother. So what if my kid only graces the bathtub once a week? He has an excellent sense of self esteem, and that my friends, tells me everything I need to know about myself. Basically, that I'm awesome.
If you stop by our house any time between noon and 7pm, I swear you'll witness an all out self-esteem fest. It's like this:
ME: James, you have the greatest hair in the world.
JAMES: Sanks Mom. I know.
JAMES: Mom? You have da gweatest hayo in da wood!
ME: Oh thanks, buddy! I think so, too!
JAMES: Mom? I yike yer pants.
ME: I like your pants!
JAMES: Wow. We got good pants!
And so on and so forth. Seriously, you should come over. We'll totally let you in on it.
But every now and again, I can't shake the feeling that I'm royally screwing up that sweet little three year old. Take this past Sunday for example...
On Sunday morning, James and I were standing in my bedroom getting ready for church. I helped him into his corduroy pants, selected a blue and white checkered button-down, and quickly realized that my kid would need to wear an undershirt, too. You know, since the temperature in our church building tends to hover somewhere around 52 degrees--on a good day.
Since all of the plain white undershirts were dirty, I grabbed a clean pajama shirt and slipped it over James's head--smiling brontosaurus and all.
"Mommy," James scolded! "Dat is a pajamee shirt! I cannot wear a pajamee shirt to church!"
"Oh sure you can, buddy! Your blue shirt will go over it. No one will see the dinosaur."
"No Mom. No pajamees at church."
"Well, actually James, it's totally okay to wear pajamas to church today," I replied, still not knowing what would come out of my mouth next. "I had a conference call with God and Jesus this morning at 6:30. They want you to wear a secret dinosaur shirt to church today. They were really excited about it."
So I repeated myself. "I talked to God this morning before you woke up..."
"And Desus, too" he interrupted?
"And Jesus, too. They're both hoping that you'll wear a secret dinosaur shirt to church today. And this is the only dinosaur shirt that I could find."
"Oh. Wow. Den I will wear da pajamee shirt, Mom. I will wear it."
And he did. The battle was done, and I was feeling pretty darn victorious until I had a very startling realization--I was scrambling the heck out my child's innocent little brain.
God?! Promoting the theory of evolution?! And dinosaurs?! On a Sunday?! At church?! That's pure insanity!!
"Damn it," I muttered to myself out loud. "I should have picked the shirt with the motorcycle on the front. Absolutely no conflict there!"
See? Sometimes even the best moms are just plain careless.