She had begged me to help her get her tooth out. So I did. And immediately after it came out, the little stinker accused me of some insidious plot to rid her of her teeth, like I could sell them on Craigslist. (Hmmm, note to self …)
It was awful, being 180’d in this way by my seven-year-old after I tried so hard to help her. The first thing that popped into my head was “you little shit.”
I didn’t say it out loud, of course. I just thought it in my head for a second before it disappeared. Not even a second – a nanosecond.
But it didn’t go away. It became a permanent thing the moment I decided to include it in my previous FITL post. I made yet another of my quite frequent dumbass parenting decisions. I let Zaffron read the post before I submitted it.
“Why did you call me little sheet?” Zaffron asked.
Oops. I had forgotten I included that part.
“Actually, honey, if you read carefully, you’ll see that Mommy didn’t call you a little sheet. I called you a little … Sweetie, if you read extra carefully. you’ll see I didn’t call you anything at all. I only thought it in my head.”
“But you typed it down.”
My five-year-old piped in. “You typed it down, Mom.”
“Mgazi, this isn’t your conversation.” I pulled Zaffron close to me. “Zaffy, I didn’t actually think that.” Eek! My first lie (of the day). “I just wrote that I thought that.”
“But you always say that you write what actually happens in our family.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true, honey.” Damn. Did it again. A full 96% of what I chronicle is spot on. “Sometimes I exaggerate. Remember we talked about the word ‘exaggerate?’”
“Oooh, Zaffy, I think Mommy is lying to you.”
“Mgazi! This is none of your business!”
“But you are zaggerating to Zaffy!”
I shot back my standard response for when my children are right and I am wrong. “Go clean your room!”
“Mommy,” Zaffy asked, “What exactly is a sheet?”
And so I told her, being sure to demonstrate the proper pronunciation. Then I gave her permission to use the word, so long as she wasn’t at school and she used it appropriately.
“Were you using it appropriately when you told the public you think I’m a little poop?”
Oh.
I had actually hurt my daughter.
This was not my regular parenting fail, which could be smoothed over with jokes and a few kisses. As Zaffron pulled away from me, her face displayed the confusion, sadness, and disbelief that her mother would turn on her in this way.
I felt like a big pile of sheet.
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This post was originally published on Families in the Loop, an amazing blog run by some incredible women in Chicago. I’m grateful for their support.
[photo credit: photostock/FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
