Was Mary the perfect mother? Did she get angry only when it was absolutely necessary? Did she spank? Did she pull her hair out when something she had just cleaned was, only seconds later, enthusiastically destroyed and messied by her young son?I have found myself asking these kinds of questions lately due to the season and the fact that my son just turned one. I've found that having a son whom I think is perfect (though I know very well he is not) is not even in the same book as having a son who actually is. In some ways, I believe it would be easier, and in some ways, very much the opposite.
Can you imagine sitting in your living room, happily participating (from your couch) in a round of Jeopardy when the Daily Double pops up. "A fruit grown in China, Korea, and Japan that, when ripe, reveals semi-transparent flesh and black seeds." You flash back to a bad fruit salad you made once and shout, "Grapes!" despite the fact that you know a relative 400 miles away that grows grapes in his vineyard...not Korea. It is then that your young son looks up from his Sesame Street coloring book, rolls his eyes and corrects you: "What is akebia?" Shortly thereafter, you hear Alex Trebek consoling a losing contestant with the answer your son just announced.
I'm not sure what my reaction would be. Embarrassment? Happiness? (The joy comes from the fact that you won't need to purchase one dictionary, encyclopedia or library card again...ever.) Maybe I'd jump on the internet and research the lowest age a contestant on Jeopardy can be. It kinda puts things in perspective.
