Besotted with my kid as I am, and proud as I am of her smart little brain, I can’t help but wonder if somehow, maybe during her naps, pirates are sneaking into the house and coaching her in table manners.
Having never dined with a pirate (except in my fantasies when Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow first takes a shower, sobers, and then sweeps me away for a pleasure cruise…wait, this isn’t my fantasy. This is – – – – -‘s fantasy. Guess it’s mine now, too). Where was I? Oh yes, having never dined with a pirate, I cannot say for certain what their table manners are like. However, if the most popular modern-day depictions of pirates (yes, you know the movies, starring Mr. Depp) are any indication, I imagine pirates would shovel food into their mouths when they’re hungry, and, as soon as their tummies are sated, they might start throwing things on the floor, at each other, and generally act dirty and uncouth: spitting, piling up the unwanted food, smearing it on their hands and arms, sweeping everything to the floor with a sticky arm (or hook, because we should embrace the pirate clich é s).
Just like my daughter. Just add random, belligerent yelling.
Husband and I weren’t very happy for awhile, didn’t feel very close, when Z was really little and neither of us could do anything fun because we couldn’t hear or talk or make plans over the screaming. But now, now we’ve bonded all over again. We have united in the face of a Common Pirate Enemy. And our sense of camaraderie doesn’t stop at the dining room table. The shared horror at the atrocities performed a mere two feet away from our plates has strengthened our relationship. We understand each other better. We have suffered together, and continue to suffer, and will suffer through whatever future stages of growing-up we are lucky enough to witness.
They say the early years go by so quickly.
The speed of the early years going by is not quite as fast as a pea shooting through the air.