There are some moments, and many phrases, that awaken one to the startling reality: I am a parent! Gasp! It’s not that you don’t feel like a parent in the moments before uttering those phrases but there’s something powerful about the moment that startles you. You recognize you are no longer the hip, cool individual you believed yourself to be; you are now the authority figure of the household, a decidedly unhip, uncool position by its very nature.
The phrases are easy to think of:
– If you [fill in the blank] ONE MORE TIME, I’ll [insert threat].
– What were you THINKING?
– Don’t put that up your nose.
– If you eat one more bite of peas you can have ice cream for dessert.
Etc, etc, etc.
The moments are a bit tougher to remember, but we experienced one, a very sitcomish one in fact, last night.
Scene: A small backyard at dusk. Father holds a shovel. Mother walks slowly outside, a small parcel in her hands. A young child stands beside a hole in the garden soil, dark dirt forms a small pile next to her. The parcel contains the Departed.
Father: It’s time to bury Goldfish.
Child: Goldfish got died. He sick.
Father: Yes, Goldfish died and it’s time to bury him.
Mother: He was a good fish. [Pulls out a phrase she never thought she’d say…] Rest in peace, Goldfish.
The newspaper-wrapped pet is then lowered into the hole, dirt shoveled on top. The sun sets as the family walks indoors.
RIP, Goldfish. Welcome, Betta. [cue Circle of Life music]