Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Creepy Kid

Later today my husband leaves for Tampa to golf and go to strip clubs and gamble and whatever else men do when they get together without their womenfolk. I don't really mind him going on vacation without me, except that he gets to be somewhere warm when I am freezing my ass off in Pennsylvania. But I'm sort of on a vacation, too. Except on my vacation I get to sit on my ass and watch TV, which is really like my dream vacation anyway. I don't even have to take an airplane to get there.

So this morning we're saying our angsty goodbyes, all hugs and I love yous and shit. So I say, "Livy, say goodbye to daddy - he's going away" So she blows him a kiss but won't actually kiss him. She's like that. She won't give you want you want just because you want it so desperately. Anyway, we finally convince her to give him some actual affection and she asks, "Is Daddy going to die?"

Umm, what? So I say, "Nooooo, sweetie. He's just going on a trip but he'll be home in a few days."

"Daddy's going to die." She says it again. And it's fucking eerie. Liv is basically voicing my deepest fears like matter-of-factly. We reassure yet again that, no, daddy is not going to die. But the truth is I just don't know that. Is it just me or has a lot of bad shit been happening to a lot of airplanes lately? I can't even breathe thinking about it.

Liv continues in the same pessimistic vein even after he leaves. She sighs deeply, resigned. "Daddy's going to heaven. Yes he is." I'm looking at my child in all her, just, weirdness. "I guess we'll see."

So now I'm worried about two things. If my husband survives his Tampa Week of Manly Good Times, then my daughter is surely destined to be some emo Goth girl that wears crushed velvet corsets and dog collars purchased from Hot Topic. If she's right, and my husband dies, then I'm a fucking widow raising some kind of prophet freak of nature who will be spouting Sylvia Brown-esque shit at me for my whole life. That would suck hard. Why am I always left with shitty options?

10 comments:

  1. There are worse things in life to be than a goth who wears Hot Topic.

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  2. LB - I'll have to agree with that. Reluctantly.

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  3. That's really very eerie. And I can never spell that word.

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  4. I think it's hilarious how your mind works on this one. I know you are being a little tongue in ceek but letting the comment make you think to the future about what it would be like to have your very own Sylvia Brown is hilarious.

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  5. It's my experience that once you say something out loud, it ceases to be true. So if she'd kept it to herself, you'd have a Sylvia Brown. Maybe a Miss Cleo. But you're lucky, because now that she's tempted fate, she's wrong.

    See?

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  6. Rassles - I DO see. I used to play that game when I was a girl...I would think of all the terrible things that could happen (fire, robbery, murder, yes I was morbid) and then I would say out loud that they would happen. And I though this meant that they wouldn't happen. It was a weird little OCD ritual. But it worked. And I still sort of do that, with my pessimism and negativity.

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  7. Growing up Pentecostal, and being a bit weird as a kid anyway, I NEVER said shit like that. The way people thought was that if you said it, you basically could speak it into existence. Like God did while creating stuff. Want to be poor? Just say "Oh, we'll never get the bills paid!" Want to die? Just say "I'm never going to get any better!"

    Weird, I know.

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  8. Is he back yet?

    My mom says that my son has "the Irish Gift" or whatever the fuck that is...he's a little psychic.

    Always has been.

    Freaks me RIIIIIIIIGGGGHHHHT out.

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  9. WRH - He got back all in one piece! I'm relieved that my daughter is not destined to a life of guesting on talk shows to channel dead people to avid audiences. And she might be a little morbid, but so is her mama. I guess she got that from me.

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  10. I've just installed iStripper, and now I can watch the hottest virtual strippers on my taskbar.

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