Before I became a father I had many delusional dreams of having intellectual conversations with my children. I thought about the conversations we would have about local and global issues.
I also thought about wandering along the shoreline with my children and watching the microcosm of life in tide pools. Or going for drives through the countryside and noticing the changes of the seasons.
Delusional. Truly delusional.
The reality of parenting is that I find myself having the same three “conversations” basically with myself time and time again.
The first “conversation” goes something like this –
“Why are all the lights on when nobody is in here?”
The second “conversation” I find myself having –
“Why is the furnace set at ‘incinerate’ when all the windows are open upstairs AND the door is open? And has anyone seen the cat? Don’t you know that heat rises? All the heat os going right out the windows upstairs! Is anybody listening?! Anybody?”
And the third “conversation” I find myself having,
“What do you mean there’s five loads of laundry? Yesterday we washed every piece of clothing you own!”*
Of course a conversation isn’t just one person asking questions. A conversation typically involves an exchange of ideas. The other half of the conversation is usually a shout of “Oh, sorry!” from some distant and unknown part of the house.
Ah…parenting. The glamour of it all.
*I have to admit that I no longer do any laundry in our home. It is my silent protest against the practice of children picking up a piece of clothing to look at it and rather than re-fold it and put it back in the closet they toss it in the laundry hamper. Doesn’t mean I am not horrified by the piles of “laundry” that build up around the house in seemingly random places.