It's So Insulting

We always hurt the ones we love.

            The other night, Chris was sliding in her socks across the tile floor, slipping onto her stomach and flying precariously close to the corner of the kitchen island. I closed my eyes and could see her demise perfectly – because it happened to me.

            “You know when I was your age,” I started out the way all fantastic advice begins, “I was doing the same thing at a neighbor’s house. She was waxing the hardwood floor, and it ended up not so fun for me. I had to go to the doctor and got a scar on my face after I accidentally slid into the coffee table.”

            Not sufficiently frightened, I dragged her into the bathroom light to prove how her beautiful face could be scarred for life. Rather than being afraid, she was curious and I’m sure if a magnifying mirror were available she would have examined every inch of my skin for youthful injuries.

            “What are these scars from?” she asked, moving her fingers lightly across my forehead.

            I wracked my brain. Was that the time my sister threw the swing at me and I was too slow to duck? Scars from skin a dermatologist callously froze off while lecturing me about the dangers of redheads in the sun?

            “Which scars?” I asked Chris for clarification.

            “These ones!” she said. “These ones right here. The ones you get when your forehead moves.”

            Ohhhhhh. Not scars. Wrinkles. The darn kid not only noticed, she felt the need to point them out.

            “Wrinkles!” she screeched and laughed. “You’re old! Do you have grandchildren?”

            Yeah, she went there.

            This is one of the many situations that those parenting books don’t discuss. One thing that I have learned along my motherhood journey is that you have to have a pretty thick skin.

I mean, I grew up in a family that traded constant practical jokes and teasing. And I spent four years in hell otherwise known as high school. But nothing can bring tears to your eyes faster than when the angel you have lovingly cared for blurts out in front of the bank teller, “Mommy, your breath is really stinky.”

Chris is already a master at the personal jab. Sometimes, though, what she states as fact can seem pretty insulting if you’re not prepared.

            The big story making the rounds at the family dinner table is the one about Grandpa and Abraham Lincoln. Turns out Chris and Grandma were reading a book about Abe and came across a picture of our former president. Grandma pointed out to Chris that ol’ Mr. Lincoln wasn’t a handsome man. In fact, she said, some people thought he was kind of ugly.

            Chris looked up and said, “Oh! Like a skinny version of Grandpa!”

            I’ve been at the receiving end of Chris’ comments before so I imagine that suddenly Grandpa felt that he needed to put back the cookie in his hand and go shave. And he was probably a little bitter about it too.

            Like I said, I’ve been there. I can’t tell you how many times Chris has pushed against my belly with a knowing look in her eyes and I’ve had to quickly change the subject before the words made their way from her little brain to her big mouth. I know I’ve been a longtime resident of the husky category, but I could do without my daughter announcing at megaphone decibel, “My mommy said she needs to go on a diet but I saw her eating ice cream last night.”

Brace yourself. I have something to say and it's probably mean.

            Even Grandma is not immune to Chris’ sharp tongue. The other day Chris brought home a school paper that read, “When I am 100 years old I will look like my grandma.” At least I’m not the only one who looks old.

            I suspect someone – probably grandma - had a conversation with her at one point to try to impress upon her that it’s offensive to say things without regard to another person’s feelings. One thing you can say about that kid, she’s a quick learner. It wasn’t long before her insults morphed into, “No offense, Mommy, but your shirt looks kind of weird. No offense though!”

            Somehow, I think you do mean to offend!

            Of course, most of the time she really doesn’t mean to offend. It’s just a kid’s way of figuring out the world and what she states as fact – because it really is fact – just seems mean because we’re so self-conscious as adults. We all know the truth, we just don’t want that bathroom magnifying mirror held up to show it to us.

            Or maybe the reason Chris is so insulting is her defense mechanism to keep the ugly truth from happening to herself.

            Last night she told me, “There’s no way you can be my mother. You don’t like onions and I do, but I like sloppy joes and you don’t.”

            I responded back, “Hate to break it to you kid, but you look just like me.”

            “That’s just wrong,” she replied. “The only thing the same about us is the color of our eyes. And we both burp a lot.”

            See, even when she doesn’t want to be like me she finds a way to insult me!

            So I got her back. When she asked if I had grandchildren I gritted my teeth and gave her a little smile and sweetly told her the answer.

            “No dearie, I don’t have grandchildren. And at this rate I never will…because you won’t live long enough to give them to me.”