Which is such bullshit. I'm supposed to say that. She is supposed to not hear it. She is supposed to be ignoring me when I'm saying dumb things and paying rapt attention, crayon and pad in hand when I'm laying down wisdom. Why couldn't she have repeated this gem I laid down: "Can you believe we thought we knew about being parents? We were just kids then."
Which I think is true. You do feel suddenly more grown-up after having kids. Also, I "borrowed" that insight from last night's episode of the Office. An insight my daughter failed to write down because she was already in bed when I re-interpreted it. All cozy and innocent. I know better. During daylight hours she's a tiny, chocolate-milk mustachiod, Bob Woodward . . .
We went to play group again today and when my wife sat down with her, she told her everything. Spilled all of it. "I went down the slide headfirst, the bouncy castle is too big and the kids are too rough (info withheld from me even though I asked because it seems I lack the necessary security clearance), I liked playing on the mats, I did a summersault." Everything.
I cannot carry on this way. How am I supposed to live? How am I supposed to get away with taking multiple cat naps, going online way to much, or rewinding and re-watching the newest Jenny Craig commercials starring a scintillating Valerie Bertinelli. The little girl is a rat. And she sees everything. She hears. Everything. Big Brother is my little daughter. I now know how it felt to be a parent during the Cultural Revolution.
My wife joked, "You better not have an affair. She'll tell me." I better not have an affair? I better not neglect to vacuum under the couch or eat anymore secret cake. There are many things I do which would be better if I didn't. I better not not watch Tarantino movies anymore with my finger on the mute button so I can try and kill the swears. I better stop making her take out the trash. I'd better stop dressing one in the other's clothes so I can tell people we had two girls.
She even rats on herself. As I was bustling about the kitchen the other day, I heard the Pumpkin man start crying. I turned around and he was on his ass. I asked the Peanut, "What happened?'
"I pushed him," she replied.
Just like that. A confession. With out coercion. Actually, I like that. I like that a lot.
I guess I'll just have to get used to it. The New World Order.