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“Gangnam Style” is on the car radio. What is with this song? I need some guidance from my kids:
“Why do they call it Gangnam Style?” I call back to the kids.
“How should I know?!” snaps my son.
Uh oh. That’s not good. That response can only mean one of two things. The first is that he’s just a typical teen, going through something hormonal. But since he’s only 6, it’s probably not that he’s just a typical teen, going through something hormonal.
A half-hour later he slams down on a stool with his homework – and I read the question out loud as he follows – “I am a number. Subtract me from 12 and get 9. Who am I?”
“How should I know?!” he bellows.
Whoa, Nelly ...
And then at dinner. When he won’t eat chicken and cheese. And I ask, how can a kid not like chicken? Or cheese? To which he loses it with:
“How should I know?!!”
Gonna be a loooong night. And so it is. Burning fever, sore throat, topped off with aches, pains and the grand finale – croup. As expected.
I don’t know why we don’t have more normal tells around here. Most kids just get lethargic, or feel a little warm. But I have never diagnosed a child of mine as on his way to getting sick by the way he looks or feels. It’s in the way they talk. And act.
And it’s all over the place. They take off their shoes, but leave on their socks. They call me Momma instead of dude. They pick fights and they watch “Little Bear.” They hug me around the waist – and ask if I know how to make beef stew.
They get furious when I don’t know how to make beef stew. They want to read a book. They kiss me, they whine, and they want to look at pictures of the day they were born.
They roll their eyes. They ask me to sing. They don’t want anything. But they ask for their old binkies, woobies and Snuggies. And I gently explain how Goodwill works.
But nobody ever just says they’re sick. But whatever, I know exactly what’s going on with everybody. Daddy saw it coming too, and calls to get clarification on the croup treatment – asking why it was only one dose, what do we do if he needs more, and how do they know it’ll work.
“How should I know?” I blaze.
Oh, great.
