I am not a parent. Yet. I do like to think I know a thing or two about kids, but I'm not quite sure exactly what it would be like to be a parent...
Even so, I sometimes find myself witnessing various situations in which I can't help but question the choices of my fellow Americans and wonder how those choices affect their Parenting. Thee thoughts in my head are interjected with "How the hell would you explain that to your kids?"
For example,
today I saw a car remarkably similar to this one:
(most especially the gold grille)
A woman, perhaps mid-40s, was driving a ten-or-so year old boy in this very car. I was at a stoplight and saw them making a left turn in front of me. I noticed the grille at first, of course, but then I noticed the kid.
And all I could think of was, how does a mother explain that car to her child?
"Gold, Juan, in honor of our Aztec heritage."
Or what about the guy with the horrible tattoo (truth: this tattoo is on a man: "Fo sho, all ho'z r scandalous")?
"No, son, I was held at gunpoint and forced to get these nasty images tattooed on to me. I think the woman holding me at gunpoint was your mother, but I don't remember her name."
But what kills me are the hippie young ladies in Whole Foods.
"Honey... it's natural to have hair that smells worse than my armpits and clothes made out of the same stuff I smoke for lunch."
And then there's Halloween.
"I dressed you up as a dying alien monster penis thing so that I can not only embarrass you at your wedding but embarrass myself as a parent. It really was perfect, baby!"
I guess one day people will be asking about me, how's she going to explain that red hair to that poor kid when he's older
14 December 2008
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