Mr. Husband turned to a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Alexis and asked, "What do you want to do today?" Their day together was wide open and the Little Miss had her choice of Disney parks to visit.
"I want to make a new friend!" she replied, showing that maybe, just maybe, she really does get what life is all about.
Little things like that make me think that we might just be doing something right. They also make me think it's OK if we do something very, very wrong. Maybe.
Later that evening, the three of us sat watching the cheese-tastic Country Bear Jamboree in the Magic Kingdom. Alexis sat perched in my lap so that she could see over the tall people in front of us, completely engrossed in the awful music and archaic animatronics. Because she hates me, her chubby fingers were entangled in my hair and she was doing that torturous lip-sucking thing that she does RIGHT next to my ear.
I blame the proximity of her face to my ear for what happened next. Well, that, and this guy:
Without even thinking about it, I whispered to Alexis, "If you don't stop sucking your lip, your teeth are going to end up looking like that bear's."
My statement initially was met with silence and then, "My teeth will look like that?" Sadness dripped from her words as she continued, "But my friends will make fun of me."
Ignoring the fact that I'm not ready for my kid to worry about what her friends think, I had a feeling I had FINALLY struck gold. For months and months I had tried to find a reason, bribe, excuse, threat, promise . . . anything . . . that would get Alexis to stop sucking on her lip. With a little bit of guilt in my heart but a whole lot of annoyance in my head, I repeated that sucking on her lip would make Alexis' teeth stick out like the bear's.
The kid started weeping openly, clearly distraught at the very idea. The little bit of guilt in my heart grew bigger, but it still didn't reach my brain. I kept pouring it on. And poured it on. And poured it on.
Off and on ever since that fateful moment, Alexis has caught herself sucking her lip, started to cry, and said that she doesn't want to look like that bear. I should probably feel bad for giving the poor kid a complex, but at least I taught her how to make friends, right? Friends who will make fun of her buck teeth, perhaps, but still. Just so long as she quits sucking her lip, it'll all work out. Or something.
