Love them, but be very afraid
I'm adamant that our little offspring aren't really "people" at all in the true sense. They're an anomoly; a strange gift from above to be sure, but they're so out of place in this world, it's quite enigmatic.
In recent months, I've looked into their little, absorbing eyes and discovered we can learn a lot from these other-worldly creatures. The thought did cross my mind they're actually planted here by aliens, sent to study us and look for weakness. Good plan.
Sure, they're "fruits of our loins" (ick), but they seem to be anti-humans - they think, act and speak in the exact opposite of their parental units and adult figures. They live to contradict everything we hold dear, almost questioning our fundamental beliefs in democracy, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They make us feel good, but they also have the keen ability to make us feel like crud.
Okay, they're really not that bad. Or are they?
If you look at these smallish human creatures, the differences are apparent.
Their sponge-like big heads are perched precariously on awkward, little bodies. Their eyes dart, roll around in their sockets, looking for a target to hone-in on. Like some high-tech military targeting system, they scan the perimeter, find something or someone new and interesting and burn a hole in their subject with laser-like beams from their eyes.
Moments after this deliberate seek-and-destroy mission, their attention fades and they become preoccupied with a bodily function or something shiny in another kid's hair. Then they band together and engage in a sort of gnat-picking ritual, like our simian cousins.
Evolution, it seems, is an ongoing process, something that has to be revisited with each generation.
They can transform a room from a peaceful haven of shapes, colours and crafts into a reinactment of some Asian parliament, minus the bad words and shoe-throwing.
They go through their days void of rules, regulations, tact and diplomacy. We give them some rope, not wanting to burst their bubbles. But I'm convinced it's all part of some grandiose plot to overthrow us.
Perhaps, when the parents are all asleep, the secret agency in charge of our young send them telepathic messages - the next day's marching orders. If you think about it, what better way to unravel the very fabric of western society than to defeat parents on their home turf, in subtle, covert ways that whittle away at our fortitude. Wear us down and we become unproductive workers, fall asleep at the wheel and make bad fashion choices. Our kids can have us eating out of their hands in no time, without a shot ever being fired!
A massive conspiracy to be sure.
We must be diligent, as adults, to make sure these lovable wee ones don't usurp the very foundations of our adult-rule society.
Sleep with one eye open, I say! And it doesn't hurt to have a clown puppet or marionette handy - these scare the bejesus out of kids.
They're very good at concealing their true mission, of course, often appealing to our softer sides.
When my son asks why weekends are so short, I smile, but I'm on to him. Sure, they'd love if it we extended weekends and shortened the work week - so they can overthrow us by reducing our economic output.
I toss out a nugget to confuse him. I tell him hot dogs are made from inedible pig parts, the lips of fowl and the wrong ends of amphibians. This derails him momentarily.
He then asks me if I ever jumped out of an airplane, secretly gathering intelligence to see if I'd make a good paratrooper. I tell him I would, but I'd be shrieking like a baby until my chute opened. He got the better of me with that one.
At the dinner table, I tell him most would-be astronauts love broccoli and Brussels sprouts and they always do their homework. He succumbs, reluctantly. Chalk up another victory for the good guys!
Their suspicious nature continues into the night.
When the lights dim at bedtime and they're snuggled beneath comfy sheets, they listen intently about the "Wild Things" and whether they'd eat "green eggs and ham" with a fox. They smile, wrap their tiny hands around a big finger or thumb, anxiously awaiting the end of the story.
And then they fall asleep, in an almost angelic fashion.
Boy are they good!
The tiny ones are cute, cuddly and make us feel warm and fuzzy inside. But don't let down your guard; it's all just a ploy. Even our preschoolers have a master plan to suck us in, and then blind-side us.
My youngest walks around the house, jotting down notes to herself on any scrap of paper she can find. The adult brain can't decipher the secret code, but I'm sure she's amassing detailed information about us and then passing it on to the powers that be.
These child-like tape recorders also have a habit of throwing our own statements back at us, and putting mom and dad at odds, in their quest to divide and conquer.
My eldest has become quite the insurgent. She tests us with her homework questions, trying to find weakness in the school system and further weakness in her parents' gray matter. But I'm one step ahead of her and give her more information than she can handle. I even presented her with a brain teaser to confuse her co-conspirators. I told her a circle actually has two sides - inside and outside.
I have found that if you befuddle them often enough, you're one step closer to pinning their shoulders on the mat.
So, fellow parents, our work here is far from done. This is one war we just have to win. The world as we know it is at stake!
© Mark Pavilons 2009
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