Sometimes around late afternoon, usually after a surprisingly uneventful family outing, I’ll look at my babies playing together kindly. I’ll observe as they gesture comically to one another and discuss really “important” things amongst themselves; their murmured chatter and secretive giggling a soft hum creating a personal soundtrack to my day’s end.
I’ll smile and watch them closely, listening intently as they relate to one another, and it never fails there’s one thought that always occurs to me:
What the heck are they talking about?
It wasn’t until I had children that I realized how downright strange kids could be. I don’t even mean with them biting everything they can get their hands on, or wanting to sniff one another’s butt like “the neighbor’s dog that one time.” It’s their insane questions. My kids seriously ask the weirdest questions. I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes it really just throws me for a loop.
I lay in bed the other night, after a particularly inquisitive day, and it suddenly hit me. It’s not just the questions, they have quite a few weird habits too. And now that I’ve thought about it, this behavior was nothing new. In fact, it was oddly familiar. And then I remembered why I recognized it. My kids were exactly like the stoners I knew in college! Bear with me, here. I mean, maybe they’re not toking after Intro to Physics every morning but the other similarities are pretty spot on:
The munchies. My kids snack all day long. I can’t get them to sit for a full meal without threatening to demolish Disney World myself, but if it comes to grazing for 8 hours on end, they’re all about it. They’re never full and, if left up to their own devices, would clean my pantry out every day. Sound familiar?
Forgetfulness. How many times have I told my son he can’t strap a fireplace poker to the baby’s back and turn her into a dragon with a spiked tail? Honestly, I’ve lost count. But you know what he says each time I scream for him to stop again. “I’m sorry mommy, I forgot!” Likely story, my friend, likely story.
Weird Questions. Fifteen years ago it amused me to sit on the yard (in college) and overhear two red-eyed chums question, “If oranges are orange, why aren’t apples called reds?” Flash forward to today and the similar questions I get from my kids honestly just leave me confused, “If the scrambled eggs you eat are the same ones that come out of the chicken’s butt, how come feathers don’t pop out when you crack them open?” “If we let the baby live in the [kitchen] cabinet while she’s still little, can we use her room for the Legos?” And a noteworthy doozie from my 4-year-old son last week, “When did my vagina stop growing?” Dude. What frat house am I in?
Togetherness. Is there anything cornier than a stoner love fest? There is. It’s my kids on a play date. Picture a tornado of activity running around in circles, endless professions of love, nonstop hugging and 3-foot tall bodies falling into a heap every 5 minutes. All they’re missing is a couple of flowered headbands and a CD of Raffi singing Kumbaya.
Sure, there are probably those of you that are quick to attribute all these quirks to their young ages and the fact that they’re still learning about this crazy world of ours and to that I say, pbbbbbbt!
Alas, I know my path. In the cosmic order of reincarnation, fate saw fit to keep me on my toes with 3 of the cutest little stoner clones to ever wear a pair of Sesame Street pajamas. Maybe I’ll teach them Puff the Magic Dragon tomorrow so we can have some new material for our weekly Target performance. If there’s one thing stoners kids are good for, that’s entertaining the masses!