Monday, February 20, 2006
Monday (Not So) Lite: Deck The Halls
I don't really remember being six years old. Or four. Or eight. Two is out of the question. This is a never-ending source of amusement to my sisters as they are always asking me stuff like "do you remember when..." and I say "Remember WHAT?! No! Why do you always stop on the goddamn ellipses?" after which they will usually fill in the dramatic pause with some account of something I did pre-1997 and I will stare at them blankly until they laugh at me. Because they are related to me and are therefore cruel, they have also taken to INVENTING memories just to see if I'll pretend I remember so they will leave me alone, which is (apparently) hysterical.
Of course this just confuses things more as now I have to try to untangle actual memory fragments from implanted ones. For instance, I'm pretty sure that I once was sent to school wearing one shoe, but was I really ever part of a touring all-boy disco revue? I doubt it, but how can I be completely sure?
One way to check is to compare my own supposed experience with the age-appropriate example of my children. The only problem there is that my kids are only HALF me. The other half of their DNA comes from their mother, whose family is... weird. Not weird like we-keep-grandma's-mummified-remains-propped-up-in-front-of-the-TV weird, but really more experience-not-EXACTLY-like-my-own weird. You know... they're other people. Still, I think my kids are a good control against which to discern what is plausible.
A wall in my oldest boy's room is decorated thus:
Ooh, Jedi. I imagine if we had a) money for posters or b) walls when I was 6, I would have had something similar up in my bedroom. But alas, we can't all have the cushy food-and-shelter upbringing like my spoiled kids are enjoying.
I know, you're thinking "What the hell... is that money on the wall next to it?"
The answer is:
Why yes. Yes it is.
I mentioned this in a comment over at Rita's blog because I thought she could identify with what is happening here: this is my son's decoration for President's Day. To my horror, she could.
See, there are pictures of Washington and Lincoln on pieces of currency! Are six-year-olds supposed to be excited about this sort of thing? It's hard for me to say as I can't really remember being six.
I guess YOUR competency to answer the question depends on what you see in the second picture. Do you see:
c) Scotch tape and the problem of removing it from paper currency
d) President-themed serial killer, age 6
e) adorable precociousness
Me, I don't know what to make of it. Either he worships money, has no concept of money or is well on his way to becoming an interior decorator. I mean seriously, who decorates the house for President's Day?
As I said on Rita's blog, I hope to God it isn't a) patriotism or b) civic mindedness as those things can lead down the dangerous path to the humanities. Then he'll NEVER move out of the house. At least if he's an interior designer, he'll probably make some money (and then, hopefully, not just tape it to the wall). I won't have any natural grandchildren, but that's a small price to pay for being able to turn his room into a gym I never use after he moves the hell out.
Any thoughts or suggestions greatly appreciated.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 9.9