Peeping Chasey

Chase got a children’s camera for his birthday. You know the kind I’m talking about. The kind that is durable, has a thick plastic casing around the edges and has gigantic buttons.  Similar to the Jitterbug I keep trying to encourage my Dad to purchase every time the infomercial plays on tv (who wouldn’t want a Jitterbug, after all, all of the elderly people on the infomercial seem extremely pleased with their purchase).  Chase is very fond of his new camera, but his new found hobby is starting to frighten me, and well frankly, make me uncomfortable.

The other night, I decided to take a few minutes for myself and take a bath.  Chase decided he didn’t need to participate in “hygiene night” because Scooby-Doo was on and he was enjoying a handful of chips and a glass of strawberry milk.  And, who was I to interrupt his evening?  

So there I was, 5 minutes into my bath, relaxing and reading a book (okay, well, not really reading a book, but rather looking through the Cashwise ads- I mean, it’s not like I have time, other than when I’m in the bathtub to clip coupons).  Out of nowhere I hear, “Say Cheese!”  Chase had his camera aimed at me, snapped a picture (sure, the one time he pushes the right button to actually take a picture), and hightailed it out of the bathroom before I had time to snatch the camera out of his hands. 

So I did what any good mother would do (well, after I was done with my bath of course), I sat him on the couch and had a discussion with him about what situations are appropriate to take pictures in- and the bathroom isn’t one of them.  (This was after I made him hand over his camera and deleted any inappropriate pictures, and blurry pictures, and ones that were of the floor.  I mean, I was already deleting nude pictures, I might as well take this time to clean out his picture inventory.)

After our discussion, Chase gave me a hug and walked away.  I took a second to marvel at my appropriate parenting, but before I had a chance to turn around and exit the living room, I felt something smash into the back of my head.  Chase hurled a ball at me, “Sorry it was an accident,” he said and scampered off into his room.    

Conclusion: I’m raising a “Peeping Chasey.”