Chase and I definitely do our best communicating in the car.
You know, when we both have no other options than to listen to the other
person. Our discussion on our way home
from a good old Catholic fish fry was disturbing. And when I say “disturbing” I mean, skin
crawlingly disturbing.
So here we were, riding along in our automobile (try and
read the last five words again without singing it- I challenge you), and out of
nowhere Chase says, “So, you know how I watch you all of the time when you
sleep?” My first thought was, “Um, oh, F-no I didn’t know you watched me when I
sleep, you creepy, creepy little man.”
But I refrained myself because I was a tad interested to see what this
question would lead into and to know how well I need to start locking my bedroom
door. Would I need a simple lock? A
deadbolt? Both? So I muttered out, “No, I didn’t know that.” He shrugged his tiny, bony shoulders as if
it weren’t relevant and continued, “Well, I do.
I think the next time I watch you, I will grab Dad’s phone and record a
video of you sleeping so I can watch it later and say, “You’re so pretty,
you’re so pretty.”
Huh. I’m pretty sure
somehow something went seriously wrong with my parenting and I’m raising a
teeny, tiny, serial killer. But in all
reality, who wouldn’t find a cute, curly, mop-headed, sweater-vest wearing
serial killer at least a little charming? Let’s hope in 30 years, a jury of 12
find him charming.
But just for my own enjoyment, I said, out loud to Chase,
“Do I have to worry about you killing me in my sleep and then using my skin to
make yourself a dress?” I was totally
thinking this comment would go over little Norman Bates’ head, but to my
surprise he matter-of-factly replied, without skipping a beat, “Well, I
wouldn’t make a dress. Maybe a
sweater. It would be soft and I could
wear it to church.”
I then had to switch the subject so I would eventually be
able to fall asleep that night.
On a positive note: my take-a-ways from this conversation
were as follows:
-Chase thinks I’m pretty (totally a win).
-Chase could become a fashion designer, make a ton of money
and support me. And, ya know, pay for my
spendy skin grafts.
-Also, my child is a devout Catholic.
