Sometimes something will come out of my kid's mouth and I will think, "Where the heck did she hear THAT? I don't talk like that! Those darned friends of hers..."
Other times something comes out of her mouth and I say, "Yeah, sadly, that's from me."
Over the course of the last few weeks, Ainsley has been attendant at a lot of solemn events, from meeting with the priest to go over the funeral mass to the services themselves to having the family over to sort through pictures for the memorial boards and video. Being six and all, she got antsy a lot. I will confess: I wasn't always a model mom in these moments. I had a lot on my mind. My catchphrase when Ainsley was tugging on my sleeve asking for something relatively unimportant while I was giving my attention to more weighty matter was,
"Ainsley, settle down. It's not all about you right now."
So, days later, she's playing Super Mario Cart with one of her visiting uncles. She excels at this racing game, but on this particular day it's getting the best of her.
"I hate Mario," she said. "He thinks it's all about him."
Of course, the uncle got a big kick out of this. And the fact that during their game playing she also told him that Mommy shaves her back sometimes. I swear to you with my hand on a million bibles, I do not know where that one comes from. I mean, I visit the electrolysis sometimes and all, but my back is not one of my problem areas. Thank God.
Another Cranky-ism that's been getting some airtime is, "You don't have to talk to me like that." Ainsley expresses stress by mouthing off; I have no idea where she gets this (you guys can hear the sarcasm, right?) Things have gotten a little better in the last few days as life has started drifting back toward what we called normal, but at the height of the drama she used her angry voice for most things she said to me. Thus, she got told to not talk to her mother that way, often in the same tone of voice I was getting on to her for using. I'm a mom; we're hypocrites that way.
She didn't make this connection for a while. But during a car trip last week, when I got angry with her for something or other she was doing or not doing in the back of the car (I think she had just spilled a drink all over herself), she said,
"Well, you don't have to talk to me like that!"
And it was such a direct copy of my inflection that it was like the voice of a Mini-Me from the backseat. Jason was amused; me, not so much.
Now as I write this, the song "Teach Your Children Well" is running through my head. I'll just look at her and sigh...and know she loves me.