Every day is a day where my kid asks the wildest questions or says the craziest things. And yeah, I know, errybody thinks their kid is smart, special (as in the opposite of ridin’ the short bus, wearin’ a helmet and lickin’ windows), and a joy but mine really is what I will call ‘a mess’. In a good way. Not in the you need to clean up after her kinda way. So today she got confused with the news reporting of what’s going on in St. Louis (Ferguson) – more on that later when I can gather my thoughts coherently – and announced that James Brown, had in fact, been shot and had died when I returned to the room. That’s what I get for leaving on the news and not Liv and Maddie or Austin and Ally. And yes, she knows who James Brown is because we saw that movie together (hey I ain’t have a baby sitter that day and she likes music and dancin’ and what-not).
And yes, I know she is probably too young to be watching these teen-aged themed shows, but when you are a mama of a certain age with a young kid, they pretty much raise themselves while you smile, yawn, pay for stuff, and deepen your voice erry now and again when you speaking to her to keep what ol’ Black foke like to call ‘the fear of GOD’ in ’em. But if anybody asks you about the parentin’ situation ova here, you either tell them we good OR you just smile, nod and keep it movin’. I don’t need them foke (the loving term I use for CPS or similar) doin’ home visits all up and through. What was I talmbout again? See what happens when you get old?
Anyway, I left my keys in the house after I packed her in the car so had to leave the door open while I went to retrieve ’em (car was still in the garage, CPS, if you reading this). I heard loud yells of Mama (made me wanna change my damn name!) til I got back (all of 10 seconds). “Mama you left me in the car….I coulda turnt into an angel”. Yeah, that’s what I told her happened when she was watching the news and a child had been left in a hot car. “Mama, I almost died”. She’s super dramatic, this kid. So then we are off to school.
I cain’t listen to the radio or cuss out bad drivers like most foke..NOOOO….I gotta hold a conversation with a 4 year old. She tells me she wants to be older….and she didn’t want to get too hot in Mama’s oven (yeah I told her the story about Mommies having ovens in their tummies where GOD puts the baby to bake and the bell dings and they knock on the door to come out. Hey..don’t judge me. I’m doing the best I can with this parentin’ thang with no handbook!) so she came out but she should have come out earlier so she could already be 5.
Then, we get to school and her lil friends surround me – two have lost teeth (my kid is the youngest in her class) – and they are talking to me all at the same time. One asks me somethin’ bout a baby…which I start to make sense of when my kid’s teacher asks me if I am having baby cause that is what my kid is goin’ round tellin’ foke. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Listen….come closer to the screen so you don’t miss this. No good can ever come from a situation where your husband says ‘Baby please…just one mo time…this time with the honey AND the scented oil’. That is how I ended up a mama of a certain age with a kid. Don’t do it Miss Celie. You don’t wanna trade places with where I done been and where I am. I’m out….gotta go for a run to mitigate these fat thighs rubbin’ together……