This morning I realized since the beginning of the toddler years, I have become an expert at faking my interest in the nonsensical.
With every ‘Ah yes’ or ‘Oooh cool!’ I become more versed in the ways of enthusiastic falsification.
Maybe it sounds cold of me, to blatantly tell you that I sham my way through stories about undersea adventures or trips to the magical land of dinosaurs, but in my jaded and under stimulated mind, all I have to contribute is my awesome ability to show counterfeit keenness.
Lars is currently going through this, ‘Angry Birds’ phase. For any of you who don’t know what Angry Birds are, please do not ask.
I am not completely sure what they are either.
Something to do with fat little birds being slung shot into the air to knock pigs off pedestals. I realize how odd this sounds. But nowadays, what is not odd in the ways of children’s entertainment?
So I bought Lars this ramp that propels an ‘Angry Bird’ down it, and as this plastic toy hurtles its way towards the end of the line, it knocks artificial images of comical pigs into oblivion.
The boy has now been obsessed with the toy since I bought it for him 3 days ago…He sleeps with the damn thing. And has got his sister involved in the mania as well.
I however, do not complain. I simply sit back and watch the fun.
“Hey Mom! Look at this one…”
“Ya! Ya! Mama…LOOK LOOK LOOK!” Sophie is madly following Lars around, so excited she can hardly contain herself. She is shaking violently from the excitement of the fat little bird ramp and I am wondering if I need to put a stop to the play before she starts going into hysteric convulsions.
“Ok Mom,” Lars has placed the top of the 3 foot pliable ramp on the couch, while the remainder drapes off, “This one is called the 16, and 19 feather place drop.”
“Ahh cool man” I quickly engage my forced enthusiasm.
“YA YA 6 and free and tee dwop.” Sophie attempts to copy the handle of the newly placed ramp…She falls a bit short but no one seems to notice.
The anticipation is just too much.
“So Mom…Are you watching?…So what we do is take the angry bird and he’s gunna fly over the 16 and then he is going to speed to 19, and this part is feather drop! Can you believe it Mom, THIS IS AWESOME!”
“Ya Awe-ome” Sophie adds with more enthusiasm than I could ever fake.
“Sweet buddy! Let’s see it go!”
Out of nowhere comes this deadly silence, quickly summoning the idea that I have said something terribly wrong.
“Mom, first we have to do a 1,2,3,4- feather drop count…Then we need to kiss the angry bird and then we have to send him to the room of flowers and THEN he can do it.”
His tone is so condescending I am beginning to feel uncomfortable.
‘Just get on with it then’ I want to say, but feel it may not be appropriate to get into a passive aggressive battle of wits with my four year old.
“Oh sorry I didn’t realize there was so much he had to do before he went off the jump.”
“It’s no jump Mom…It’s a ramp. Are you even listening!?”
“JUST GET ON WITH IT!” Enough sass from you, I think.
I run upstairs to get a coffee while the boy is participating in his birds pre-RAMP ritual, but when I make my way back towards the playing children, they are both nowhere to be found.
I spot a pudgy leg jutting out from behind the armchair, and then hear,
“Heeelloooo, I’m a talking chair…Cool huh!”
“Ya ya talkin’ chair…HAHAHA”
“What about the angry birds ramp?” I say with a hint of sadness.
“Who cares about that! Can’t you see there’s a talking chair in front of you! Ooooooh!”
“Ahhh so Awesome! I have my very own talking chair.” There are no words to explain my sudden confusion and to tell you the truth, dismay over the abrupt change in play.
I all too soon realize I had been looking forward to seeing the jump ramp in action. This gives way to the idea, that maybe, just maybe; I’ve not been such a phony in the first place.
But despite all my feelings of ramp abandonment, this talking chair thing seems pretty cool…So I decide to roll with it.