The (Anti)Social Experiment

     Any parent or childcare provider has done it at least once in their lifetime.  It’s that awkward moment when they insert baby talk, high pitched tones, or contributed an unhealthy exuberance in sharing useless information involving cartoon characters and plots into what is supposed to be intellectually stimulating adult conversations.  For me, it took place during a long-overdue night out with a group of childless friends.  I looked the part.  I wore heels and pants that didn’t consist of 100% Spandex.  I donned makeup and my hair was out of its usual ponytail.  The night was going to be full of sophistication and mature humor and maybe even a little political commentary.  And then it happened.  As everyone was getting ready to pack into their cars to head out to dinner I made the announcement, “OK Guys, before we take off does anyone need to go to the potty?”

     Legit.  I said “potty”.  In heels.

     Despite the fact that I know EVERY person who has ever spent an extended amount of time with kids has experienced a similar situation, I felt so incredibly ridiculous at that moment.  Later on I began to reminisce about my pre-kid days and wondered what happened to my former being who prided herself on scholarly vernacular and possessed opinions on worldly affairs that went beyond whether ketchup or BBQ sauce was better on chicken nuggets.  And then I reflected upon the daily conversations that I now partook in.  I seriously, have never used the phrases such as “poopy”, “boogie”, “snacky snack”, and “happy nappy” so much in my entire existence until I became a stay-at-home mom.  Now I would consider sentences incomplete without one (or all) of those phrases used.  Discouraged, this thought process then lead me to the following social experiment.

     I literally spent an entire week recording the bizarre and oftentimes disgusting things that are said in this household.  Just one simple week.  And this is what transpired…

Monday

(Child emerges from playroom)  “Why are you naked and where are all of your clothes?”

Tuesday

“What do you think you want for lunch today?  (Look into backseat via rearview mirror.)  Hey!  Boogers aren’t on the menu!  Get your finger out of there!”

“Knock that off and give that to me!  Toothpaste is NOT a condiment.”

“Where are your pants?”

Wednesday

“Please stop head-butting the dog in her rear end.”

Child sits in his father’s seat and starts speaking in a low authoritative voice.  “Hi.  I’m Daddy and I’m the boss.  If you are bad I will put you in time out.  But if you are good and eat all your supper I will give you a treat.”

I laugh and then say, “That’s pretty spot on.  What does Mommy sound like?”  (Pandora’s Box opened, Stupid!)

“Hi.  I’m Mommy.  And I’m the other boss.  If you are bad I will put you in time out.  But I’m meaner.”

Thursday

(In what should have been a tender moment shared while quietly snuggling my 5-year-old, the following conversation emerged)

Child rests his head against my, albeit, pregnancy enhanced chest, pulls back and then looks quizzically at me.  “Momma, what are those?”

“That is my chest, dear.”

“Oh.  I thought that it was the baby’s feet popping out.”

(I thought this would be the end of this exchange.  I should have known better.)

Child then looks down at his chest, back at mine, and back at his.

“Woah.  Yours it a LOT bigger than mine.”

“Yes.  Yes, it is dear.”

(PLEASE, GOD let this conversation come to a close.)

Child stares back at me and then makes a coasting motion with his hand over “the girls”.

“Momma, these are like mountains.  BIG MOUNTAINS.  I am going to get my trains so can they chugga chugga up and down them.”

“Honey, I don’t think that is necessary.  Or appropriate for that matter.”

“Momma—“

“Do you want a snack?  Let’s go get a treat.  How about some TV time?”

Friday

“You have been potty trained for two years--Did you seriously just poop your pants?”

“’Chuggington’ was on.”

Saturday

“MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!  Ry-Ry is nakey again.”

“Serously Child!  You are like the freakin’ Houdini of attire.”

“What have I told you about head-butting the dog in the rear?!?!”

Sunday

Child sits in his father’s seat and starts speaking in a low authoritative voice.  “Hi.  I’m Daddy and I’m the boss.  I’m old.  I drink soda.  I drink blue milk not red milk [1% vs. whole].  I go to work a lot.  And I play video games.”

I laugh and then say, “That’s pretty awesome and TOTALLY spot on. “  (I learned very quickly NOT to open Pandora’s Box again.  Especially with this uncensored honesty in the air.)

“No Ry!  Put the potty back on the floor!  The froggy potty is for practicing how to tinkle and poop on the big boy potty—NOT for dumping bath water on your brother!”

     So after one week I drew my social experiment to a close and realized that all it proved was that there was no wonder why I say some of the things I do and I was bound to have anti-social conversations for the remainder of my days while raising small children.  That, and I live with a house full of aspiring pint-sized nudists.