Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Walking With Dinosaurs

“That elephant that came after the dinosaurs, well, it was stinked.”

“Don’t you mean ‘extinct’?”

“No. I mean ‘stinked’. It was stinky.”

“Is it also extinct?”

“No. Just stinked.”

Let that be a lesson to you. Your life can be reduced to just this: how you smell. Which may explain why I got, count them, 6 smelly lotions this year for Christmas. I guess it’s time to throw away the smelly lotions I got 2 years ago, the ones still sitting in the closet. When I die, when I’m extinct, my children will fight over the shelves and shelves of lotion, all of which they bought for me. I should write the year on the containers with indelible marker so that when paleontologists dig through the rubble they’ll be able to date this particular layer. “Oh, that’s the Bath and Body Works Era. You can tell by the striking level of flower and sandlewood scent coming from the archaic plastic tubes imbedded in the living quarters. Women would slather that over their bodies in an effort to blend into their surroundings so that predators would be unable to distinguish them from the flora and fauna.”

Back to the point, though, the 4 year old doesn’t believe anything I say if she thinks it contradicts what she heard her preschool teacher say. I dread the arachnid unit because for weeks after I have a headache from trying to convince said child that not every black spider in the basement is a Black Widow. In fact, one year I made the child call her teacher to ask her if she’d like to come to our house and identify the bug. Unfortunately, the teacher didn’t answer the phone. She was probably killing a spider.

This preschool teacher is god-like in the eyes of my children. Part of me is incredibly grateful that they feel so much love for and from this woman. The other part of me wants to scream, “Stretch marks! Cellulite! Sleepless nights, vomit, math homework! I’m the one who loves you best!” Maybe instead of getting all psycho codependent on the kids, I’ll just turn them over to Best Beloved Teacher. She can convince the 10 year old to shower, the 7 year old to use conditioner and the 4 year old that a “soak” doesn’t count as a cleansing experience. In fact, that may be my best idea ever. If the preschool teacher can prevent my kids from becoming “stinked” she’ll have earned my undying gratitude.


BlueSkiesBreaking said...

Maybe they're like cheese...the stinkier the better. It's something to think about.

Emily said...

If it weren't so anathema to my literary style, I'd have t say 'LOL.' I'd like to have a tiny mic in my ear so you could pull a Cyrano for me every day. You always know just how to dish and take! Forget that Dooce lady who is now living the high life off her blog money--you are way funnier. And weirdere. lol.