Adventures in Momming: The Beard Episode

The kids have been fighting a lot. I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re six and seven, girl and a boy, extrovert and introvert…and they’ve been stuck in the house together and with each other nearly every moment all summer long. So when Simone was crying on the swingset yesterday, I went outside to referee yet again. I was prepared with “Louis, stop touching/tasering/poking/teasing her.” I was not prepared for what I got.

Simone had big tears streaming down her face, and took deep cry-breaths. (She's very cute even crying.) She sat on the swing with her smirking brother next to her. I wanted to scoop her up and hug her, but it WAS possible that she’d kicked him first and then he called her something, so I had to investigate first, dole out some kind of punishment, and then comfort.

Me: Okay, what happened?

Simone: (cry cry choke gasp cry and then:) Louis is imagining me with a BEARD!

Simone then followed that little statement with HUGE crying while I…stood there, trying desperately not to laugh because all of a sudden I was imagining her with a beard. She’d look like a dwarf dressed up for Snow White. Her beard would be strawberry blonde and long. She’d HATE having a beard. She’d keep scratching it. Louis with a beard would probably look like Freud.

I TRIED to stop imagining it and be all Mom Dictator.

But, I mean, honestly, how are you supposed to chastise someone for 1) Using their imagination and 2) Imagining a beard on a cute 6-year-old girl? There’s a little bit of evil-brother-genius in that.

I instantly imagined me dealing with this:

ME: Louis, stop imagining your sister with a beard.

LOUIS: Fine.

SIMONE: He’s still imagining it!

LOUIS: Am not.

SIMONE: You are too!

LOUIS: So what.

ME: Louis, stop imagining a beard on your sister right now or I’ll imagine you without legs.

I mean, this could not happen.

So I did what any other parent with a strong sense of humor and appreciation for the surreal would do. I said “Stop It” and then quickly walked into the house where I told Kealoha all abut it, stopped myself from laughing, grabbed something to drink, and then glanced at the calendar. School for them starts in one week.

One more week. We can do this.