Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Caged

“I don’t ever want you to put me in a cage, Mom.”
“What?”
“I don’t ever want you to put me in a cage, like that cage under our house.”
Oh crap. Why did I have to tell him that I’ve seen rabbits squeeze through the lattice under our porch? Why-oh-why-oh-why did I tell him that? Haven’t I learned my lesson by now about his overactive imagination?
“I would never put you in a cage, Adam. And you would never fit under our porch. You’re too big.”
“Yeah. Only rabbits fit under there. And slugs. And snakes.”
“Yep.”
Shoot! Why did I just confirm that snakes might live under there? Seriously, Chrissy, what’s wrong with you?!
“And I don’t want to live in a cage at the zoo, either.”
“No, Adam, you will never have to live in a cage. You will live in a nice house forever.”
[or a teeny tiny dorm room, or a shitty rental with a bunch of your college friends, or a cramped little apartment when you’re broke and on your own for the first time.]
“I want to live in THIS house FOREVER with you and dad and Ben.”
“We’ll live here for awhile, and then one day we will move to a different house, and then one day you’ll be a grown-up and you’ll want to move out.”
“No I won’t.”
Good God, I sure hope so.
“Ok, Adam. Our family will always be together.”
This is just a white lie, right? I mean, we’ll always be together in thought and spirit, no matter where we happen to be living. No need to get all picky about the technicalities.
“And Mom, I PROMISE you I am not going to play T-ball and I am NOT going to school. I am NOT going to school unless Grandma Patti and you and dad and Ben go with me.”
“Adam, you worry way too much for an almost 4-year-old.”
"Yeah, we should just go to Poach-lay."

Later that day:
"Mom, you won't believe what Adam told me today."
*Brief recap of conversation.
Silence.
"Mom? Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here. I was just wondering if I watched that Oprah show about the girl who lived in a dog cage while I was babysitting Adam."
Great. At least I will have an explanation when social services comes knocking on my door.

2 comments:

A. said...

Oh, he is the Sweetest little worry wart on the planet. Until Mason turns 4 and then I bet he's very similar to Adam. I can already see it.

Em said...

Don't worry, he'll change his mind about moving out. I used to think I wanted to stay with my parents forever, too. And as a fellow worrier, I know he may not outgrow it, but he will learn to manage it! :)