He is at the opposite end of the kitchen from me and is in the midst of doing a spot-on, pre-flight flying monkey impression, hopping around the kitchen all crouched over and begins ooh-ooh-oohing as we lock eyes. It was freakin' hilarious... And so are the flying monkeys.
Friday, November 14, 2008
When I was a kid, there was a certain time each year that one of our three television channels would air The Wizard of Oz. Each year, we would watch it. Each year, the flying monkeys scared the beejeezus out of me.
Tonight my son and I were watching it and talking while I cleaned up the kitchen, and that was just about the time that the monkey swarm started on the TV. I told him that the flying monkeys used to scare me when I was his age.
What? I said. You don't think they're scary?
No! He says. I think they're funny!
Why do you think they're funny? I say.
Because they are. Look at 'em bouncing around with their little wings! He says.
Well I thought they were really scary, I say...
While I scrub the top of the stove I start in on him and tell him that he gets to see a lot of stuff that I wasn't allowed to when I was his age and that back then that type of thing was really scary. Then I stop talking and start thinking: My mind switches from defensive to paranoid. I'm thinking that I'm a bad mom and my kid is jaded and that maybe I am too lenient and oh god what if he thinks torturing girls (and their little dogs, too) is something funny?!!! Holy crap what have I done? I'm raising a desensitized, violence-loving, girl-with-dog hating son when I look up...