Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Small Vent About Myturo

This morning, I took Buzzy to Daddy's nook and sat her down to play. The following conversation ensued. (In Spanish but I will translate so you are not completely lost)

Me (to no one in particular) : So, Buzzy, what are we going to do for your 1st birthday? ((silence))
Me (to Daddy): I was thinking cake and swimming and running crawling through the sprinklers.
Daddy: But it's going to be hot.
Me: So?
Daddy: She'll get sick.
Me: She can't get sick from going through the sprinklers.
Daddy: If its hot outside and she goes through cold water she'll get sick.
Me: Oh, Hun, you have so much to learn about how these things happen. You can't get sick from going through cold water no matter how hot it is outside.
Daddy: Stop talking like you know everything, because you don't.
Me: ((Silence))


At this point I am trying desperately hard not to come back with how ignorant and naive he is to have such ridiculous notions about how one gets sick. I am trying very hard to keep my cool and not tell him how he needs to get his shit (oops, did I say that?) facts straight and jump into the 21st century with modern science.

Then Myturo asks no one in particular what we 'want' to do today. So I state what I want to do.

Me: I want to take a shower.
Daddy: You want to take a shower?
Me: Yeah.
Daddy: Then go take a shower.
((As Buzzy grabs a plastic bag full of baby clothes that are too small for her and starts shaking it and laughing hysterically))
Me: But you need to watch her.
((Daddy rolls his eyes))
Daddy: I'm watching her!
Me: She shouldn't have plastic.
Daddy: As long as I'm watching her and she doesn't put it in her mouth she's fine! Now go take a shower!


Now imagine me, as if I were on your computer screen. The camera slowly zooms to my face as I look slowly from Myturo to you, a facade of calm in my expression as my face slowly begins to flush and turn bright red. Slowly my eyes grow wider and wider as blood vessels pop and my blood pressure sky rockets through the roof. My hair slowly begins to stand on end from the electricity my body is generating from the anger rising and rising and rising. Steam begins to shoot out my ears.

Is it really too much to ask that my husband not allow my 10 month old daughter to play with electric cables, plastic bags, tin foil and other dangerous household items?? Is it really TOO MUCH?

No, I didn't think so.

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