I have confessed previously, possibly on several occasions, that Steve and I need to watch our language around the kids. Generally, Ian does not repeat what he knows is off-limits for a kid. He bought the line we fed him about having to earn the right to say certain words, and earning it means you have to be at least 21 years-old to cuss. Ainsley still thinks she can say anything she wants to, as long as she does it in the right tone of voice.
The other night, Ainsley was in the bath tub, playing and talking to herself as usual. Kneeling next to the tub, I tried to keep up with the conversation that was barely audible. The sentences didn't make sense. They all seemed independent of each other, and often didn't make a complete thought within themselves. Then, in a petite, princess manner, she calmly asked:
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" I inquired.
Then she repeated, "What _ the _ hell _ are _ you _ doing?" Each word given an equal, delicate, and precise stress.
"What the hell are you doing?" I stared at her and asked. She had no idea why I was intruding on her private conversation between the voices in her head and herself.
"Mom, I'm not talking to you," she replied.
"Oh, I see. Don't say 'hell', no matter who you are talking to," I scowled. She smiled slightly in acknowledgment.
She is already a smart-ass at the age of four. We're in big trouble. She reminds me of a comedienne I recently watched on Comedy Central. Tammy Pescatelli is hilarious! She is Sicilian (Ainsley is 1/4 Italian) and from Cleveland (not that far from Boston). She grew up in a family full of brothers, so you can imagine her sense of humor. Ainsley may only have one brother, but together they are the equivalent of five boys.
Tammy is famous for saying, "What da hell is wrong widch you?" in a great kid from da 'hood accent. This is my daughter in 20 years. Trust me. Not only will she survive growing up with Ian, but she is going to use her experiences to make other people laugh. I feel certain that colorful language is going to be a part of her bit.
How can it not be? She's a rebel, and she already like the "bad boys".
Last night as we cuddled in her bed, she said in her adorable little girl way, "Mommy, I want to get married."
"Oh, really? Who do you want to marry?"
"Anakin," she said with a shy smile.
"Ah-ha. I see," I said, realizing it was time to break the bad news. "There may be a little problem with that. Anakin is a character in a movie. He isn't a real person."
"No, Mommy," she protested. "Not the little Anakin. The big one!" as if that made a difference. No, of course not the little one. He would actually be somewhere close to her age...when they made the movie. I'm sure he's in college by now.
"You mean the actor who pretended to be Anakin in the movie?"
"No, the real Anakin. You know, the one with the blue light saber," she said, justifying her position.
"Oh...you like the good Anakin!" I said, relieved.
(I gotta admit, the girl's got excellent taste. Hayden Chistensen is awfully cute. If you cross him with Josh Groban, you have my cousin Craig. And Ainsley adored Craig when she was a baby. Craig is also a good boy tempted by the dark side. A wonderful, loving human being who makes bad choices. So, there you go. Now I know why she loves Anakin. Duh!)
"Yeah, the one on the light side of the Force," she agreed.
Light side, dark side, good, evil. It makes no difference to me. She is FOUR and she craves the affection of a modern day James Dean. I wanted to smack her upside the head and say, "What da hell is wrong widch you?" But I didn't. Instead, I held her in my arms, kissed her little forehead, and said, "Sweetie, starting tomorrow, all Star Wars movies and video games are off limits."
"OK," she said with a yawn, and fell asleep almost immediately.
I am SO not gonna handle my children's puberty well.
1 comment:
Awww...
Be sure to tell her that Anakin doesn't have a stable job. Now Boba Fett...I hear bounty hunters can make a living!
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