Last week, while clearing away the dinner dishes, my boys, Ethan, five, and Alex, three, began their debate. 

Ethan, in an authoritative voice, fired the first shot with, “Storm troopers have cooler weapons than Jedis, you know.”

“No, Jedis are good guys,” answers Alex.  He doesn’t even know a light saber from a blaster.

You’re so stupid, Alex.  Storm troopers have cooler ships.”

“No, Jedi!”  Alex pounded his fist on the table.

“Hey!”  I interjected, “Next one to fight with his brother eats dessert alone in the dining room!” 

Alex turned on me.

“Well, if you put me in the dining room, I’m gonna go postal on you!”

Where do they get this stuff?  It should have tipped me off back when Ethan was two and he dropped his ice cream cone.

“GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!” he yelled at the sidewalk.  

As parents, we all know that kids are little parrots.  So, when Ethan began repeating Daddy’s swears, I threatened to wash Daddy’s mouth out with soap.  Now that little Alex is of parroting age, he knows how to remind Kirk, “Watch your language,” because he hears it from me.  Swearing has become a thing of the past.

Sometimes, I find that the ugliest things I say get repeated.  Last Thanksgiving, with the entire extended family assembled, Ethan announced, “Mommy says we can’t hang out with (relative’s name omitted) because she’s lousy with kids.”

Now, that required some explaining.

Not all of the things my kids repeat are that hideous.  I often hear from Alex things like, “You did such a good job with your dinner, Mommy.  Now you get some dessert,” or, when I’m on the toilet, I’ll get a reassuring pat on the knee from him.

“I’m so proud that you pooped in the potty, Mommy.” Yeah, like I’d ever be caught wearing a Pull-Up!

Right before the November election, Alex asked Ethan why George Bush gets the thumbs-down, and without missing a beat, Ethan said, “Because he’s a moron.”

Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?

My boys have mastered the parentese, and they’ve also gotten the context.  Yesterday, we were putting on our shoes to go to the park.  In a rare display of fraternal helpfulness, Ethan assisted Alex with the Velcro on his sneakers.  I was tying my laces, musing on Ethan’s maturity, when he asked me, “Do you really know how to tie your own shoes?”

“Yeah,” I said.  He sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes I just can’t believe how grown up you are!”

Right back atcha, kiddo.

By Mindy Uhrlaub

Labels: dinner dishes, George Bush, going postal, Jedi, Jedis, Pull-Up, storm troopers, swearing

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# posted by Writing Mamas Salon @ 12:01 AM 0 comments

Labels: America, Backack Obama, By Dawn Yun, George Bush

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# posted by Writing Mamas Salon @ 12:01 AM 0 comments

In just a couple of days it will come down to this -- a new president.

One never wants to be overly optimistic: but then one has no desire to continue what has been.

It’s hard to believe that very soon what so many of us have long wanted will come true -- George Bush (remember him?) will be gone.

Replaced with someone who actually is bright, articulate, amiable, caring, and – this is really important – not arrogant.

So much of the troubles the country now finds itself in can be traced to W. and his evil henchman Dick (could he have a more apt name?) Cheney.

Two incompetents driven to increase the wealth of their cronies at the expense of their country.

W. is a therapist’s dream. Does this man have Daddy problems or what? I feel sorry for his brother, Jeb, who was supposed to be the real politician of the family. No, Georgie wanted to be president and damn if the man didn’t make it happen. Of course, this meant that his brother had to do some ballot stuffing and chad hanging and vote stealing.

Hell – that’s politics!

It will be hard to forget watching the returns that night as W. and his father observed the results, too. Florida had already been called for Gore. W. was adamant that the broadcasters were wrong. He refused to accept their announcements. Sr. politely stuck up for his son by saying journalists had been wrong before.

There was a cockiness in W.’s tone, a sureness to his defiance, as if he knew something that the rest of us did not.

It wasn’t just that he was acting like the spoiled brat he had always been. No, he was waiting for a different result that he knew would soon come.

It was odd, but no surprise then when journalists later said that there had been a mistake. Florida had been called too soon. Slouched deeply into his overstuffed chair, W. pounded its arm. “I told ya! I told ya!” he said.

Really, there was nothing to tell. Not anything he could truly share. He knew “the secret.” It had all been carefully planned long ago.

Voting confusion would mask ballot dishonesty.

This was politics. Win at any cost. It doesn’t matter how you get there. What counts is that you arrive.

What a poor lesson for our children. Sort of one that matched the bad student that W. had always been.

That same C student  -- my guess is his grades were really mostly Fs and Ds, but he is a Bush, so he was allowed to pass his classes -- will appear in history books that our children will one day read.

W. will go down as one of America’s, if not the world’s, most inept presidents.

In just a few days, if everything aligns just right, tomes about the past will tell a very different story about the person who replaced him.

Barack Obama.

What a wonderful lesson for our children that will be.

By Dawn Yun

Labels: Barack Obama, By Dawn Yun, George Bush

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# posted by Writing Mamas Salon @ 12:01 AM 0 comments