The Sixth Sense
Some vigilant and concerned parents possess an evolutionary trait that I like to call the sixth sense. And no, this does not mean that these keen parents can see dead people, although in a round about way that description could be applied. No, really what I'm referring to is that sixth sense that enables parents to know intuitively when their kids are up to no good.
So, in a way these parents do see dead people, because when they catch their kids involved in mischief it may sometimes lead to their kid's untimely death-and I mean figuratively of course. I'm in no way condoning the murder of children. But if you're a firm, stern, authoritative parent your child will wish they were dead instead of being dealt your brand of swift and cruel punishment for their misdeeds. Or it may signify the death of their child's social life. For example, when that kid has been invited to go boating on the intercoastal with some really gnarly dudes but can't because she is grounded for missing curfew the weekend before. Alas, missed opportunity-which is a tragic fate in the life of a 17 year old, trust me!
As a parent I can't say that I have this quality, at least not in a truly developed fashion. I was a little bit of an amateur and knew when my daughter was really young that when she was quiet she was probably up to no good. And nine times of ten when I subscribed to that belief it usually paid off in narrowly averted poisonings, chokings, and fallen furniture. But whether it's the eyes in the back of the head or the nose that can detect the first whiff of trouble that your child is going screw up, these are skills that I will have to continue to hone. I fortunately do have a role model though, someone who has perfected this sixth sense and has carried out countless punishments and who has thwarted many a childhood prank.
My father in law is case in point that some parents possess the sixth sense. I know first hand because in my early days of dating my soon to be husband we could never pull anything past my father in law. For example, when we attended family functions-weddings, parties, and/or picnics-there was a small group of cousins and brothers in law that would escape the function to partake in recreational activites that promised to make the function a little more comical and entertaining. No matter how we tried to slip away or sneak off it always seemed like my father in law was there with that watchful eye. He never did try to stop us at that point because we were adults, technically, but it did not deter him from making his presence known. Like he needed us to know that we were not fooling him, no matter what we thought.
My husband relayed a childhood memory this past weekend that served as inspiration for this post. When he was ten his parents took him on a cross country family vacation to the Grand Canyon. Along the way, my husband and his ten year old boy persona took delight in the dirty poems and musings he read off the bathroom walls in the rest stops, gas stations, and campgrounds of America. At one of their stops at a KOA campground, my husband thought it would be funny to share some of those limericks with future campground bathroom visitors. His plan was seemless. It was the last day of their stay there, so he would lift a magic marker from the campstore and adorn the bathroom walls with a poem similar to this:
Here I sit so broken hearted
Tried to shit, but only farted.
The Dukes of Hazzard were in full swing, so there might have been a confederate flag or two drawn on the walls too.
Anyway, my husband's fool proof plan was that he would lock the stall door and crawl underneath. It was doubtful that his Dad or anyone else that could incriminate his involvement in the graffiti would witness his scrawlings if the stall remained locked until their departure. But unfortunately his plan was not successful, because my father in law, exercising his sixth sense, foiled the plan and proceeded to make my husband clean the bathroom walls. My husband has no idea how his father found out about the graffiti, but it was pretty easy for him to detect my husband's involvement in it.
Because I've sworn off reading my daughter's diary I am going to have to rely on some supernatural ability in order to keep her out of severe trouble. I can only hope that my sixth sense will improve over time. I'm almost sure I'm going to need it.
So, in a way these parents do see dead people, because when they catch their kids involved in mischief it may sometimes lead to their kid's untimely death-and I mean figuratively of course. I'm in no way condoning the murder of children. But if you're a firm, stern, authoritative parent your child will wish they were dead instead of being dealt your brand of swift and cruel punishment for their misdeeds. Or it may signify the death of their child's social life. For example, when that kid has been invited to go boating on the intercoastal with some really gnarly dudes but can't because she is grounded for missing curfew the weekend before. Alas, missed opportunity-which is a tragic fate in the life of a 17 year old, trust me!
As a parent I can't say that I have this quality, at least not in a truly developed fashion. I was a little bit of an amateur and knew when my daughter was really young that when she was quiet she was probably up to no good. And nine times of ten when I subscribed to that belief it usually paid off in narrowly averted poisonings, chokings, and fallen furniture. But whether it's the eyes in the back of the head or the nose that can detect the first whiff of trouble that your child is going screw up, these are skills that I will have to continue to hone. I fortunately do have a role model though, someone who has perfected this sixth sense and has carried out countless punishments and who has thwarted many a childhood prank.
My father in law is case in point that some parents possess the sixth sense. I know first hand because in my early days of dating my soon to be husband we could never pull anything past my father in law. For example, when we attended family functions-weddings, parties, and/or picnics-there was a small group of cousins and brothers in law that would escape the function to partake in recreational activites that promised to make the function a little more comical and entertaining. No matter how we tried to slip away or sneak off it always seemed like my father in law was there with that watchful eye. He never did try to stop us at that point because we were adults, technically, but it did not deter him from making his presence known. Like he needed us to know that we were not fooling him, no matter what we thought.
My husband relayed a childhood memory this past weekend that served as inspiration for this post. When he was ten his parents took him on a cross country family vacation to the Grand Canyon. Along the way, my husband and his ten year old boy persona took delight in the dirty poems and musings he read off the bathroom walls in the rest stops, gas stations, and campgrounds of America. At one of their stops at a KOA campground, my husband thought it would be funny to share some of those limericks with future campground bathroom visitors. His plan was seemless. It was the last day of their stay there, so he would lift a magic marker from the campstore and adorn the bathroom walls with a poem similar to this:
Here I sit so broken hearted
Tried to shit, but only farted.
The Dukes of Hazzard were in full swing, so there might have been a confederate flag or two drawn on the walls too.
Anyway, my husband's fool proof plan was that he would lock the stall door and crawl underneath. It was doubtful that his Dad or anyone else that could incriminate his involvement in the graffiti would witness his scrawlings if the stall remained locked until their departure. But unfortunately his plan was not successful, because my father in law, exercising his sixth sense, foiled the plan and proceeded to make my husband clean the bathroom walls. My husband has no idea how his father found out about the graffiti, but it was pretty easy for him to detect my husband's involvement in it.
Because I've sworn off reading my daughter's diary I am going to have to rely on some supernatural ability in order to keep her out of severe trouble. I can only hope that my sixth sense will improve over time. I'm almost sure I'm going to need it.
posted by amyd | 2:14 PM
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