Today my four year old told my coworker she was going to light him on fire.
I probably shouldn’t start a post like that. For the record, she is not a social deviant and I am not a negligent parent. Well, maybe in the “I sometimes forget my four year old is a parrot with super good hearing” way.
Let me explain. My coworker is a jokster with the driest sense of humor of anyone I know. So he eggs on the banter and my daughter happily partakes. His latest “fun” has involved trying to convince her to mispronounce her little sister’s name, turning “Harper” into “hopper”. After several attempts he finally succeeded, and cackled wih glee when I gave him my stern mom face and muttered “I’m going to light you on fire,” (a result of my also dry sense of humor. He and I understand each other.)
Of course you can imagine what happens next. He and child resume banter. When I checked back in, he was regaling her with tales of a motorcycle crash and she was lecturing him to stop lying (a lecture she has perfected from watching it as she is receiving it frequently as of late). Mid-lecture, she stopped and announced in a matter-of-fact voice (at a decibel that carries throughout the entire building), “I am going to light you on fire.”
Those are fun parenting moments. When you laugh a little and cry a little at the same time, when you get smacked in the face with the reminder that everything you say and do is being absorbed by a little sponge. When you spend the car ride home explaining why you can’t tell people you are going to light them on fire.
My oldest, she is…a lot. A lot of energy. A lot of questions. A lot of bouncing and running and talking. She is curious and smart and passionate and I adore her. And she is a lot. There is never a dull moment, she challenges me to be better every day. And some days, that means I am inspired and full of gratitude.
And other days it means I’m scooping bites of brownie out of the pan with my fingers.
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