until yesterday, we hadn't had any of those parenting moments you hear about. you know, the ones where your kid loudly asks you an embarrassing question about a person who is well within earshot? or your child just does something horrifically embarrassing and you can't. believe. they. just. did. that? i mean, f has done some awesomely inappropriate things in public (like, oh, constantly having one hand on my right nipple? like that) but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending) i am not easily embarrassed and tend to think her innocent little social mishaps are cute and really, just how kids are, being uninhibited by social graces and all. i remember being reprimanded for staring at a person with a glass eye in the grocery store when i was about 5 or 6. my poor mother. but glass eyes! so interesting. anyhow.
yesterday our winning streak came to a screeching halt in the middle of ballet class, in front of a gaggle of women i don't know very well at all, in a voice loud enough for the entire ballet school to hear. parents are not supposed to be in the room during class, but we are allowed to watch through about a 2'x4' window that we take turns looking through so we can catch glimpses of our pink-leotarded little angels twirling like dervishes and flapping their butterfly wings in front of the giant mirror. yesterday, the waiting area at the ballet school was unusually full of people; the big recital is soon approaching, so a committee of some sort was using the lobby to make important decisions about tulle and crudites and the like. and when i peeked through that tiny window and f saw me and motioned that she wanted to talk to me, i thought nothing of opening the door a crack to listen to what she needed to say, or maybe to grab her little hand so i could lead her to the bathroom. but as soon as i opened the door, i could tell she had nothing in particular that she needed to say, and she didn't need to go potty - she just wanted that little bit of reassurance that goes a long way when you are three years old. in that split second i could see her little mind scrambling for a reason, something important enough to say that it would justify having needed me to open the door to talk to her in the middle of class. and out it came. quite loudly, i might add:
"MAMA, DO YOU... NEED... SOME WINE? DO YOU NEED SOME WINE, MAMA?"
hi there, everyone in this godforsaken humid tiny VERY FULL OF BALLET TYPE PEOPLE waiting area, i'm that mom. that's me! i mean, i laughed out loud, because it was so random in the true sense of the word, but as i looked at the mom nearest me, who was giving me the "aw, i'm embarrassed for you but SO GLAD IT WASN'T MY KID WHO JUST SAID THAT" look, i realized that, really? NOTHING i can say here is going to make it look any better. "she's so funny! i'm not a heavy drinker! i don't know where she came up with that!" even though that is all the truth, it just sounds like someone trying to backpedal, does it not? "i swear, i don't even drink that much!" just comes across, when your daughter has just asked you at 4 o'clock in the afternoon if you need some wine, well, it comes across a little thin, a little flimsy in the cover-up department. so i didn't even try, i just kept laughing, and thinking "DUDE, that was so awesome in its awesomeness. that was one for the baby book." i also couldn't wait to get out of there so i could call j and tell him, and then call my mom and tell her, because i knew they would both crack up. and they did. because we know that's ridiculous! i don't need a glass of wine at 4 o'clock in the afternoon! so silly.
i try to wait until at least 5.