The morning after a quasi recent date (because it's been that long since I've actually had time to write blogs consistently) I asked the Energizer Bunny how his evening with The Walking Guilt Trip had been.
"Did you eat dinner?"
"What did you have?"
"Omm... chocolate!" (This could be a wish on his part because he can't remember at the moment, or most likely, it is simply the truth. While I never would have had chocolate anywhere near dinner, I believe it actually pleases The Walking Guilt Trip to break my rules and see how I respond. Clearly getting mad at my own mother would incite ridiculous guilt, that for her to watch must be almost like a fortune-teller watching a self-fulling prophecy come to be. For the time being, I chose to ignore the response.)
"Did you play?"
"Yeah." Getting information out of a two-year old who does nothing but ask "why" all day and therefore should know very well what it means to answer a question is a billion times harder than it should be.
"What did you play?"
"Umm... played trains..." He has this really cute way of dragging out the words in a list while he thinks of the next thing to add, "cars... puzzles... books on Gamma's lap..." At this point, a terrible sadness overcomes his entire face, his eyes fills with tears and his lower lip sticks out and begins to quiver. Enough to break a mother's heart.
"Kiddo, what's wrong?"
"Gamma got mad."
This does not surprise me even a little bit, my mother has the patience of a fly (something, I might add, I perhaps inherited just a little bit of), but it still upsets me, obviously. "Why did Gamma get mad?"
"'Cause I peed."
"Because you peed?" I have the brilliant ability to extrapolate (something the Unsupportive Louse is completely inept at), and you see, the Energizer Bunny is in the process of being potty trained (or potty-taught or learned or whatever politically correct but grammatically incorrect phrase you prefer to use) and still has occasional accidents. So I asked, "Did you pee in your underwear?"
Looking at the floor, full of shame, "Yeah."
"And Gamma was upset?" This seems extreme to me even for my mother to get mad at a two-year old simply for having an accident.
He looks up at me, eyes brimming with tears, "'Cause I peed on her lap." I did everything in my willpower to keep from laughing at this hilarious scene: my perfectly composed mother in her freshly pressed slacks discovering the warm feel of pee on her leg.
A tiny tear trickles out of one eye. It's amazing the power a single real tear has over me. "Gamma don'nt wanna come over any-more 'cause I peed."
The guilt trip. I can hear it now, "Gamma isn't going to want to come over anymore if you pee on her."
Way to start 'em young Gamma Guilt-Trip, way to start 'em young.