It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Perks of Parenting…

Stephen has been working from home today, and, being the dedicated worker bee that he is, is about to hop on his bike and go get us both a coffee. I am kissing him goodbye at the door.

We do not peck on the cheek, Stephen and I. A good rule of thumb for kisses is one second per year of connubial (or co-habitory, as the case may be) bliss. People get this backwards, all the time. Have you ever noticed that? Ninety-five second kisses when they’ve been together ninety seconds; half-second kisses when they’ve been together forty years. Utterly backwards.

What a multi-second kiss means in a house full of toddlers is that you will always, always be interrupted. But we are hardy, experienced, committed kissers. We are not to be diverted from our appointed task by a mere piping voice, or a tug on a pant leg, nor even a head-butt to the butt. The kids have to learn their place in the grand scheme of things.

(What it means in a house full of teens is dramatic and copious moaning and groaning, also ignored. If the moaning and groaning gets aggressive, the kisses get even more so. Teens, too, have to learn their place.)

So. I am kissing my man goodbye at the door.

Malli trots up. The piping voice, the tug at the pant-leg, are ignored. Sensible girl, she doesn’t attempt the head-butt to the butt. She attempts conversation.

“What’s your name? Mary? Mary, what’s your name?”

Course, the man and I get contrary about this. Interruptions only ensure the kiss lasts longer. This is an Important Life Lesson. Now we have to keep it up until she’s quiet. It’s in her best interests, after all.

“Mary? What’s your name?”

He is a very good kisser. Emma, reading on the couch, is studiously ignoring us. See how well we’ve trained even our teens in appropriate response to adult nookie? Hard to know how she can see the page, though, with her eyes rolled up to the back of her head like that…

Ah, but Malli is quiet now, so I have to come up for air…

“Yes, lovie? What did you want?” Yes, I’ve heard her question. I suspect it’s a red herring.

“What’s your name?”

“Her name,” Stephen pipes up most helpfully, “is…” He puts his palm across his mouth and makes elaborate cartoon-y kiss-noises. “SMMMMMMOOOOOOOCCCHHHH!”

Emma can bear it no longer, and races in disgust from the room.

Parenting is fun!

March 30, 2007 Posted by | manners, Mischief, my kids, power struggle, sex | 12 Comments