I wonder if my readers think I’m exaggerating when I say I’m raising truthsayers, possibly the next Gandhi. Let me assure you, I am not.

As evidence, I offer this conversation I had yesterday with my oldest son, word for word. For you grown ups out there whose mind hasn’t atrophied from too many episodes of SpongeBob and Chowder, that means verbatim.

Really, I use the bigger word for those people whose minds have atrophied from Dora the Explorer and her Nick, Jr. comrades whose plot is to weaken the minds of stay-at-home parents across the world. I’m slowly clawing my way out of the two-syllable word darkness and invite you to do so with me.

Anyway, here’s the conversation. Verbatim.

“Girls are the craziest people on the planet.” he said

“Yes, this is true.” I reply, beaming quite brightly. We are crazy. I have prepared him well for his future dating years.

“And boys are the biggest nincompoops on the planet.”

“Oh yeah, that’s true too! Why do you think they are such nincompoops?” I ask.

“I dunno, they’re just that way by nature.”

I hope you are writing these down as quotes in your Golden Book of Life Wisdom. I’m sure you’ll want to refer to them often. I’m not sure even Gandhi spoke Truth with such clarity.

And since we’re speaking of quotes, here’s another one:

“To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own ass.” -Anne Lamott

So all those years my son was obsessed with lining up Hot Wheels, then Thomas the Train, and then marine science and now the breeding of cats weren’t signs of perseveration or fixation or any “-ation” at all. He was simply keeping his head out of his own ass.

Good to know, and I share this wise quote for all those other parents whose kids may appear to fixate or perseverate. I can’t tell you whether it’s a good or bad thing, but for me, just questioning the idea such a trait is somehow wrong or flawed is enough to keep me marching along this unbeaten path.

Now back to this idea that girls are crazy. In my last post, Texas Red wondered if my nieces were too young to know not to talk about v’ibrators, or if I’m the cool, crazy aunt and that’s why they told me the v’ibrator story. I’m crushed the answer is not obvious.

I’m the cool, crazy aunt.

You know, the non-Republican who brings goat cheese truffles appetizers and a new wine to taste, and doesn’t believe heaven or hell are actual places we go when we die.

The one who thinks gay marriage is fine. If homosexuals want to suffer with the rest of us crazy fuckers and line divorce attorney’s pockets, why not?

The one who doesn’t (gasp!) use double negatives.

So, yes, I’m the off-her-rocker aunt who maintains the “cool crazy” status only because I keep them in a state of confusion by occasionally reverting back to double negatives and incorrect subject/verb agreement, making them think I’m just like them. That probably don’t make no sense, but it was how it is.

See, I bet you’re confused now too. I can even get away with anti-Republican sentiments when I speak like that and they ain’t got no clue!

Before the v’ibrator conversation and thus my brain melting out of my cranial orifices, I had a different conversation with my 17-year-old niece. But not the one where we accused the 13-year-old of being a cougar in training. No, no, another one. The one where the 17-year-old said her math teacher reminds her of me.

I just had to know exactly what it was about this teacher that reminded her of me. Her devastating good looks? An Albert Einstein-esque quality? The ability to mesmerize a crowd of people every day?

Before my niece could explain, my mother (my mother) piped up and asked why my niece wanted to insult her math teacher like that. What the hell? I’m not changing her diaper when she’s in the old folks home.

My niece ignored her and went on to say that her math teacher is “just so crazy. She’s just, like, out there, I dunno. She’ll be talking about one thing, then all the sudden go off on something else, and then yell, ‘SQUIRREL!’ She’s just crazy.”

“Um, I don’t yell ‘Squirrel!’”

“Oh, I know, but you know what I mean. She’s just out there on the edge.”

“Well, hon, it’s the only place to live.”

“I know. I want to be that way too.”

Oh shit, y’all, I think this means I’m a ROLE MODEL.

Everyone hide.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 27th, 2010 at 12:01 am and is filed under Blood is thicker than water so good thing there's wine. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.