Why, why, WHY…when I tell my daughter to get ready for church, she pulls a shirt so stinky it is practically smoking out from beneath her bed, where it clearly has been languishing for months and is now lathered in dust bunnies. Maybe she likes the fur look?
BUT when this same child tries on a CLEAN blouse in the morning before school and decides, “No, I think I’ll wear my blue instead,” the first shirt is deposited instantly into the dirty laundry hamper despite the fact that it has been worn for two and one-half minutes.
And why–this question is from my husband, who, I suspect is in a menopause of his own–do kids pour glasses of milk the approximate size of Seven-Eleven Big Gulps, take two sips, leave it, then pour grape juice into a thermos, take two sips of that before abandoning it forever all the while hollering, “Mom, we’re thirsty and there’s nothing to drink”?
As I get older, I seem to crave order and logic, two virtues that held no appeal in my youth. Why? Why do I want to impose order and logic on my life now when I am surrounded by children and filled with menopausal ADD? How’s that gonna work?
My timing’s off. Assuming I could impose a neat cause-and-effect rhythm to each and every day (or even half of them), what would I gain? Sure, a kid who never smelled like a stable during benediction, but I’d also lose the hair bands attached to each and every doorknob in the house; houseplants lined up in the bathroom like thirsty soldiers, water and soil draining onto the floor; and the little thrill of the unexpected when I open the freezer to search for dinner and find, instead, a Groovy Girl doll seated between the lasagna and the peas (don’t ask; I have absolutely no idea).
I don’t need logic at this point in my life. What would I do with it now that my memory’s failing? And, really, if one is trying to stave off senility, what better way to exercise the brain than to try to figure out how a child’s mind works?
Happy Just Wonderin’