Other People's Children

I am by turns endlessly amused and irritated as heck by other people's children. Why are my kids the only normal ones?

Imagine my affront when, during Rascal's recent wellness checkup, the doctor suggested he be evaluated by a speech therapist because he's a late bloomer on the communication chart. Although Dr. Knowitall was polite and diplomatic with his expressions of concern, it baffled me that he could not decipher Rascal's lingo.

What part of "Shinofing dat oh me past is dooty, dat Kye!" did he not understand? Idiot. So now we wait for an appointment and hope fervently that insurance will cover us. Moron.

Like, other people's children?

The other day I babysat for my friend's grandkids. I've met them once, months before and typically, the 2- and 4-year-old didn't remember me. Which didn't stop them from requiring hugs, kisses, and showing me all their mosquito bites. Yeah, weird!

While fixing a snack in the kitchen, I heard a thonk followed by a scream from the living room. "Somebody!" called Big Missy. "Somebodyyyyyyyy?"

I assumed she was just generally calling for assistance, and of course I rushed over to take stock of the situation. Little Missy was sitting on the floor crying angrily.

"Somebody? That boy spilled water." Oh, that must be my name. Somebody. As for That Boy, she waved generally in the direction of Rascal and Kye.

I am making a huge effort these days to not automatically assign the blame to Rascal, and so I tried to discover from BM which That Boy she meant. She had already forgotten.

About two seconds later the same crisis erupted with someone else's water cup. My bad - the sippy cups were all in the dishwasher. Once again, the blame could not be determined.

Later on, after snack and the refilling of the cups (about an ounce of water apiece), the big kids thundered off into the playroom leaving Little Missy and Kye alone in the living room. I turned on PBS and put my feet up. Then watched as Little Missy calmly toppled over all the cups onto the coffee table.

She looked up at me, stuck out her lower lip and pointed at Kye.

P.S. For all the rest of you illiterates, Rascal's comment referred to the snotty deposit Kye had just swiped onto his pants. See? Told you it was completely understandable.