Full of Ship

I think that, during pregnancy, all mothers-to-be grow a "foreshadowing gene".  This gene allows us to predict upcoming disasters with startling accuracy, a gift that often seems to elude fathers and friends without children. 

For example, a mother knows that giving a child a hammer to help "build something" will inevitably lead to a bruised thumb or, quite possibly, a bruised brother.  A father probably look forward to the "quality time" he'll be spending with his son. 

Too bad it will be spent in the ER rather than the garage.  A mom knows this, however. 

My foreshadowing gene kicked in one night last week when Joel summoned me to watch a funny video he'd seen.  Not knowing what I'd be viewing, I curled up on the couch where he and my boys were perched and was taken aback by what I saw.



Technically, there's no swearing.  But as any mother knows, three and five year-old boys don't care about technicalities.  So when I heard the store patrons talk about "shipping their pants", my foreshadowing gene sounded a warning alarm. 

Trying to intercept this problem before it began, Joel and I quickly launched into an unnecessarily detailed explanation of shipping practices and methods.  But the damage was done, and Cael and Graham had already witnessed the laughter and shock on our faces. 

He may not have understood why, but he knew that we found this "ship" thing funny.  And if Cael is anything, he's funny.

"Mom, there's ship over here!  Come get this ship!  Graham, do you see the ship?"

How do I respond to that?  Am I looking for a small plastic boat, or a steaming pile of dog poop on the floor? 

"Ship that ball, Graham!  I just shipped these balls and now I'm going to ship the tub!"

I guess Kmart can call this marketing campaign a success.  Their commercial is modern, memorable, and controversial.

But its effect on my parenting skills?  Very convenient, my "asp".