There is a subject of which I ignore because it will make people miserable. But, it has to be said.
My sons are better than your kids.They have a more intellectual use of sarcasm, have more experience with an often inept mother, understand this new-fangled thing called technology, and can text faster than I can think. Oh, and there's all that sentimental stuff like truly being kind, thoughtful and beautiful human beings. Whomever they marry is going to be blessed with an actual good man.
Look, it's okay to lament and whine on the subject. You may even be protesting that this is an untrue fact. But it will be easier on both of us if you simply acknowledge the truth: mine are better than yours. Get over it.
Other facts you may try to deny like a head-hiding ostrich? That being a writer is the best profession of the universe. As my better-than-your-kid once told me, "Mom, you get to make-up the plot however you want. It's your story." See, told you he was awesome
and that I have the preferred career.
What else do I have that's better than what you have? Well, this landed in our backyard this morning: a rainbow. And, to make it better than any neon colored arc that may have grazed through your property, it landed on our nectarine tree. You know, the one that's planted over the burial spot of our dear doggie, Sydney. Bet you never had a rainbow land on your dog's grave.
Please, don't despair. You have much to appreciate. You get to breathe, touch flowers, and live in a world in which cats exist (just ask a cat, they'll let you know what an honor it is for you). You can read, know the outcome of two plus two, and have tasted sea salt, chocolate covered caramels. Ice cream has been invented, fuzzy slippers are a part of life, and moon views change every night.
As we were on the subject of animals (well, kind of, anyway) yesterday was National Penguin Awareness Day. Were you aware of the mind-boggling fact that Emperor penguins can stay underwater for over twenty-two minutes? I can't even run in a circle for that long, can you? Plus, the black and white non-flyers have been spotted over one thousand, seven hundred feet below sea level. So, in my mathologist brain, I have figured out that they must be able to get down there in ten minutes, have two minutes to swim, and then get back to air space in the remaining ten minutes. They do not suffer from the bends (if you have never been SCUBA diving, google what that means), inner ear blow out, or popping eyeballs.
I will concede that the parents of penguins are just about as blessed with prodigies as I am.
In the hopes that you do not suffer self-esteem issues after learning of my superior sons, I will grant you this. Most likely, your house is cleaner than mine, you probably are in possession of matching glassware, and have an inkling of fashion styles of the current decade, unlike myself. If you can balance a checkbook, you have one-upped me to the extreme. Text and talk at the same time? You've left me behind in a trail of binary dust.
If we meet on the streets, don't bring up the secret fact that I am a slob at eating tacos. And I will refrain from gloating about my boys.
It's winter time. Buy this book and read it to your kids:
In all humility,
Heather Leigh
