HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Having a preschooler again is definitely having an affect on me. We watch Barney—I think we have every DVD—several times a day. I can’t stand that prehistoric creature, but still I find myself pausing in the housework, glued to television so I can see what Barney does next. I know all the lyrics to the Barney songs, and the CD case in my truck—which once boasted the soulful sounds of Luther Vandross or Pink—is now overflowing with titles that include Toddler Tunes and Just 4 Kids.
Can you imagine what it’s like, on a warm spring day, to have the windows in your truck rolled down, and stop beside a bass-thumping car at the red light (who also has their windows down). Not to be outdone, you reach into your CD case, and not looking at the disc selected, pop it into the player. Soon, you’re jamming to the sound of Hickory Dickory Dock or Old McDonald. The sound of laughter reaches your ears as the light turns green and the other car races away, leaving you behind in a cloud of dust and embarrassment. It’s happened to me before, and I must say it’s not a good feeling.
I even count money differently. The other day I was in the checkout line at the store. When it came time to give the cashier my money, grabbing her hand I pressed the coins individually into it and said, “That’s a quarter. . .twenty-five. . .and one more quarter makes fifty—“ I saw the shock in her eyes, and luckily was able to stop myself. Of all days, Robert chose that one to stay at home with his dad.
“Haha. . .I have a preschooler at home,” I said, my face reddening.
“Uh-huh,” the cashier replied, jamming the receipt in my hand, obviously glad that this crazy woman was leaving her line.
I need help; either Robert has a bigger impact on me than I thought, or I’m already regressing into my second childhood. Either way, I’m a mess.