The other day at Taco Casa (I feel like a disproportionate number of my stories start with that phrase) I overheard the most brilliantly annoying, amusing & upsetting conversation. Two girls, about my age, are having lunch. One of the girls is pregnant...maybe barely enough that I would have been able to tell, but believe you me, I could tell from the conversation. It went along the lines of this:
“OMG and I'm SOOO excited. And I hope it's a girl because that will be SO. CUTE.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And if it's a girl I can dress her up in really cute outfits everyday and it will be SO. CUTE.”
“Absolutely.”
I was just listening to this new mom thinking, “Oh my God. She has NO CLUE. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm totally prepared to have kids because I'm pretty sure no one is actually prepared. But oh my God. She's in for the shock of her life”.
Now, I know I don't have children. However, I do have more experience with them than your average non-mom. Not only all my billions of children I've taught, but from my stint as nanny-extraordinaire to child-extraordinaire, Baby J.
I went back mentally to one particularly memorable day in the adventures of Bonnie & JoJo. (BTW, Anna, mom-extraordinaire to Baby J, has never heard this story because I couldn't bring myself to tell it. But it's time).
So, most days JoJo and I were BFF. Seriously. But we all have our days, and this was one of them.
We had opened the morning with our favorite song, “I CAN'T LIKE YOU TODAY, BONNIE. I CAN'T LIKE YOU!”.
She had already had at least 3 Martin Luther King peaceful protests, during which she lays flat on the floor motionless until I either a) give in, or b) threaten to stick my head in the oven if she doesn't stand up and cooperate.
And that day, of course, I had to go to the bank. Like, HAD TO GO. So, against my better judgment, I decide that we have to use the pre-nap window of opportunity and head out (Keep in mind, going anywhere from JoJo's house is an excursion. Believe me).
She might or might not have been wearing the shirt she slept in with elastic waist shorts. And I might or might not have told her to just run her fingers through her hair so we didn't have to brush it. And I'm positive I told her to just “grab some shoes and put them on in the car”. Like I said, we had a window of opportunity that we couldn't afford to miss.
So, we went to the bank. We went by the DQ, because me and Baby J keep it classy. And then we headed back.
From the backseat, I hear a tiny voice singing joyfully.
Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellash...ooo
Obviously, singing “I've Got the Joy Joy Joy Joy Down In My Heart” has PAID OFF. Because this child is now a musical genius. It should be obvious to all that she is doing a jazz-style scat solo in the backseat of my car. I'm watching a prodigy form.
Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellash...ooo!!!!!!
Then, it starts to click.
Hey, Jo, what are you singing?
Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellasho...ooo!!!!!!!!
No really, Josephine. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING???
Pink...Shoo...Yella...Shoo...Pink...Shoo...Yella...
Oh. My. God.
I turned to look, and there it was.
A Pink Shoe. And A Yellow Shoe. On her feet. After we had been in public. Twice.
So, that was what came to mind at the Taco Casa. Most days, JoJo was dressed perfectly. I french-braided that hair almost every day of my life for a couple of years (one of my lesser-known spiritual gifts...french-braiding on a moving target). It was SO. CUTE.
But some days, little pregnant girl, you're gonna be living on a pink shoe, a yellow shoe and a prayer.
Hope you're ready.
No comments:
Post a Comment