Evan turned five on Monday, and I turned 68.
Five seems so old to me; I can remember being five, I can remember it! That means Evan will remember a lot of the stuff he's going through right now, this FREAKS ME OUT!
I can't use my he's-so-young-he'll-never-remember-this excuse when I laugh at him for losing at Candy Land, or when I turn the smoke detector on and yell "OH NO!!! It's the Monster alarm! Hurry kids run to your rooms and be very quiet so the monster can't find you! RUN! It should be safe to come out in about an hour or two, I'll let you know" because I want a moment of peace and quiet.
I can't do this stuff anymore.
I want my kids to think back on their childhood and smile, or at least shrug their shoulders and say "meh, I guess it could have been worse."
I don't want them to look back on their childhood and have to lock themselves in the dark water heater closet and have a good cry for the next 48 hours, like I do.
So, from now on I'm creating lasting happy memories for my kids.
Right after they finish their ramen noodles, that I so lovingly added frozen corn to, we're going outside on a bear hunt.
You know that little chant:
But we just substitute things like the tall grass, or the icky sticky mud, for things we come across on our walk, like:
Oh no! A dirty syringe! (we live in a questionable neighborhood)
Can't go over it.
Can't go under it.
Gotta go around it!
The kids love it.
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