Happy New Year!

Wow .... delinquent blogger, or what??!
My thought for the day has been niggling at me for a week now and I don't know that it's worthy, even, of having people read it, but here goes!

Why are our kids forced to grow up so ridiculously quickly these days? I don't mean that time is flying past us all blah blah blah enjoy your kids while they're little blah blah blah. I mean that they are pelted with so much adult material at every turn that I, as a responsible parent, have to come up with some answers that I am simply not prepared to give a 5-year old. I envisioned all of this coming when she was 10 or so. Not the case, apparently.

J came home with a "please sign and return" form regarding their upcoming unit on personal safety. Very personal safety if you know what I mean. I very nearly didn't sign it, but Mike pointed out that we would then have to do all the teaching rather than just answering some potentially awkward questions and that most of the other kids in the class would be likely to be talking about it anyhow. I understand that our kids have to get this information somehow, but I can't believe that it's in Kindergarten. I suppose I have my head buried in the sand, but it infuriates me that this is NECESSARY. That chances are statistically good that something terrible will happen to someone we know or know of and it just pisses me off.

I am equally annoyed that I can't listen to the CBC news while the kids are within earshot. "And now to the Middle East...." (machine gun fire in the background). Pickton's trial which "may not be suitable for many listeners". High school massacres. You name it, it's about to become dinner conversation. J made a grand point the other day as I turned down the news on the radio in the truck. "Why doesn't the news ever have any good news, or happy news, mom?" I wish I knew.

Then there's the hair salon where they are thumbing the magazines. (A cute aside, though, as Maya licks her left forefinger oh-so-daintily and proceeds to turn the page with her right hand.) Jordan says to me, "What do those ladies have under their shirts, mom?" Right. I glance over and see that she's looking at "MAXIM". "Ummmm....well....they're breasts, love." Yeah, all shiny and brown and huge and round and hard-looking and I can barely choke back the words "they're not real, I'm sure!". "Why would they want them to look like that anyways?" she asks so innocently. "Not too sure, honey, why don't we see what's in Canadian Living?" "Well, I suppose they like their breasts like that so they can get on the front of this magazine." Bang on, I think.

And why, would one need to choose from three styles of Fruit of the Loom underwear for small children? Can you believe they make "low rise bikinis" in size 4? Sadly, the pants are all cut that way now and any other variety of undies hang out the top and propmt one's little sister to chant, "I see France I see France I see your underpants, Jordie!!!" Never mind that Jordan has discovered that if she wears her too small underwear backwards and pulls them up just a bit too high that she will have a thong. I suppose it's my fault for folding laundry while they're awake, but honestly....

So, as I brushed J's teeth tonight and gently wiggled her nearly wiggly tooth for the 100th time today, I got a little lump in my throat laughing at how I thought that the first fallen out tooth would mark the start of growing up. Instead it has turned out to be boob jobs, crazy undies, bad news and permission slips.