Genetic Conspiracy

Gracious, it's been quite awile since I posted anything here. And I'll bet you're all wondering what I've been thinking about. Ha--or not!

Well, today's topic is CHILDREN. There's got to be some sort of genetic conspiracy.

First off, you get pregnant (okay, so I know that's not the actual first part, but it's my starting point for today). For whatever reason, you're incredibly excited, eat only healthy foods, drink lots of bottled water and suffer through any illness--all on behalf of the little parasite that's sucking all of the vitamins out of your system.

Then the magic day comes--he's born! And again--you're so excited. The most fascinatingly beautiful little bundle of baby is finally here! You count all the fingers and toesies, watch him sleep, hug him, love him. . . and of course, never sleep a full night again for the next couple of years. And you know what? It's all fine. Such a joy, such a wonder. . .

Then, one day, 15 or so years later, he's this big, hairy, deep voiced man. . . .who's incredibly. . . well, you still love him and all, but whoa. . .it's not the same! Looking UP at the baby face and getting him to open jars and reach high shelves. . .it's weird. You think to yourself, wow, he's a man now.

Until he does something incredibly stupid. Again.

So, for today's little adventure, little brother gets out of the car, leaving the car door open. His big brother, such an angel, gets the groceries out of the car for his mother, poor weak thing that she is. He comes in, Mom says, did you close up the car? Of course, mother dear, he says (first hint--MOTHER DEAR).

Two hours later, after you've made your wonderful children a fantastic dinner and are in the process of cleaning up the kitchen (did I mention the grease fire?), it occurs to you that you didn't lock the car. Head outside. . .low and behold, the back door is still wide open. Even more fun, the headlights are still on (they're automatic and don't go out until all of the doors have been closed for a bit).

And then you ask yourself. . .what is it that keeps us loving these battery/income drainers so much? And then you shudder in fear thinking that one day he'll pick out your nursing home. . . I'm telling you, it's a genetic conspiracy.

So--what could be more fun than trying to start your car in cold weather after the interior and exterior lights have been on for over 2 hours?

Oh, I don't know. . . maybe going through the whole birth process again? I should be so lucky.