For other moms, it's a big deal the first time they utter, "Because I said so!" That dreaded symbol of turning into your own parents.
For me, it was when I realized that I rarely refer to my sons as, well, my sons. Or my boys. Guys. Children. Kids.
No, they're my munchkins.
And then I noticed that this isn't the only inherited colloquialism that's crept into my vocabulary when I wasn't looking.
I never visit my parents these days. I go see my folks.
And last week, I was talking to my son about something he did that was relayed through his day care provider. When he asked, "How did you know about that?" Without a second's hesitation, I replied: "My spies."
You see, I grew up thinking my dad had "spies" everywhere. I'm sure I gave him the same wide-eyed, awe-inspired look that the my three-year-old gave me, just imagining that people behind closet doors and crouching in bushes were taking fastidious notes on my every wrongdoing, discreetly slipping them to my dad when I wasn't looking. In fact, it's a little disappointing to learn the not-so-sexy truth that his spies probably consisted of my mom, teachers and babysitters.
Maybe by the time my munchkins are teenagers I'll be driving them to the show instead of the movies. Or inviting their friends to have a seat on the davenport instead of the couch.
I think instead of, "Time to go" - I'm going to start saying, "Let's rock-n-roll!"
Yeah, why not? Let's rock-n-roll!
7 months ago