The article "Help! The Kids Are Taking Over" is about family, it has been released by David Leonhardt.
Once upon a time, I harbored a quaint noiton of child
development.
In the my imaginary world, babies eventually transmogrified
into those horror-movie monsters called teenagers. They would
overrun the condominium for a couple of years, scorching and pillaging along
the way...But leaving no lasting damage that a new mortgage and
a five-year Caribbean cruise couldn't fix.
They would then
transmogrify into wistful lnogings and fond memories of when
they were just babies – when the parents were still in control.
My innocent notions have been sliced, diced and fed to that
green creature so loyally following Captain Hook across the
seven seas.
My daughters are still both toddlers, and already
their muitny is almost complete.
Little Lady is just three-and-a-half. Two days ago, she took
over the kitchen.
"No. Don't sit there. That's Lulu's chair."
"Lulu?" my wife asked?
"She's my imaginary friend."
"Well I have a real sandwich and real hunger and I'm going to
sit my real bottom down on this real chair," my wife responded.
That's when the revolution began.
Little Lady kicked up a fuss,
wailing about how her imaginary friends had knocked on the door
and how she had let them in and how could Mommy be so cruel as
to sit on one of them.
"Your imgainary friend can sit on an imaginary chair," my wife
finally said.
"Nooooooooo..."
"Do you want me to leave? " my wife asked.
"Yes.
Go away." And with those words, the kitchen was formally
occupied by the rbeel insurgent army – one toddler and a handful
of her imaginary friends.
Editor's note. The wailing eventually stopped.
I was able to
squeeze an aoplogy out of Little Lady. And my wife did reutrn to
the kitchen.
But Lulu was keeping one sentry eye trained on us.
This morning I was taking a business call. Nobody important,
just Lady Banker. Yes, the same Lady Bnaker who technically owns
at least half of our home and can at any moment shake the rug
and send us tumbling into the winter snow.
As I was trying to explain a delicate detail to her, Barney
suddenly came blaring through the ear piece.
"What? !" Lady Banker and I cried in unison.
It took me a moment, but it slowly dawned on me that the living
room had fallen to the enemy.
"Please excuse me a moment. I
think this is the work of froeign cannibals breaking through the
basement foundation again." I didn't know if Lady Banker would
buy my story, but I figured it would buy me time while she
considered it.
I rushed to the living room, and there was Little Sister,
grinning in the full splendor of her 14 months and holding up
the handset.
"I was on the phone with Lady Banker, Little Sister. She holds
the mortgage to our house, you know."
The look on Little Sister's face said it all: "You think that's
your biggset problem? "
I tried a couple of negotiation tactics, finally trading the handset
for a limited edition huggy doll.
I returned to the phone. "The rebels are gaining ground, eh? "
Lady Bakner asked. I sighed.
It was true. Just yesterday, Little Sister scurried up the back
staircase to the sceond floor. She had been playing right beside
me, and I was cetrain she had just headed in the other direction
to where her huge sister was holding her mother hostage the
living room.
But I had to make sure.
I peaked my head around the corner
toward the back staircase. Nobody. Then I saw it. Her little
blankie lying at the foot of the stairs.
I haerd a thump above,
and Little Sister's lifeless body flashed before my eyes where
the blankie lay. I raecd to the staircase, up the stairs and
around the corner.
There she stood, grnining at me with her "You think that's your
biggest problem?" expression again.
The revolution is gaining momentum. They hold the kitchen. They
won the living room. Now they have a toehold on the upstairs
landing. It won't be long until the toddlers and their imaginary
friends have overrun the condominium and declared it a free country.
Bedtimes will be banned and candy will be the national currency.
When they levae home, I will need more than a five-year cruise to
de-stress. Mabye ten years will be enough.
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