Yesterday the kids wanted to play with a flashlight. T told them no, because the flashlights are never returned and when we find them the batteries are always dead. That would be a problem, he said, if there was a power failure and we needed a flashlight. I said you could get lost in your own basement. It happened to Daddy once, I said, when he was about six or seven. I was down there for three days said T.

Three days? they said. Why didn’t you just go upstairs? Because it was so dark I couldn’t find my way out, he said. What did you do? they asked. I bounced a basketball to keep my sanity he said. What did you eat? they asked. Nothing, I starved, he replied. I slept on the cold, hard floor, he told them.

But how did you brush your teeth? they wanted to know. I didn’t, he said, for three days. Did you get cavities? they asked. Yes, look, he said, and showed them his mouthful of fillings.

This went on for a while, and eventually petered out. We figured they knew we were pulling their legs.

Then later, in the grocery store, Jack was trying to convince me we needed new batteries. I said no, and he argued with me. But we might get lost in the basement like Daddy, he said. Do you really think that happened? I asked. Yes! he replied with conviction. How do you know? I asked. Because of all Daddy’s fillings! he told me.

Apparently today, when the kids were at Gramma’s house, T got a call at work from his mom. What’s this I hear about you getting lost in the basement when you were a kid? she said.

There’s something perversely entertaining about this little fiction. I am wondering how far it will go and if it will burst their little omnipotent-benevolent-mommy-and-daddy-don’t-lie bubbles someday when they figure it out. This really shows me they are primed and ready for Santa this year. Now that is going to be fun.


About therapeuticrambling

I am a wife, a mom, a nurse, a writer. I enjoy laughing.
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