Oh, The Humanity

Yesterday, in the car on the way to Flora’s last soccer game of the season, Kate declared, “I just hate myself.”

I freaked out a little bit.

“What? Kate, that’s a terrible thing to say!”

“I know, but I just hate myself.”

I got mad. “Stop saying that!”

“It’s true. I just hate myself.”

I tried to be reasonable. “You don’t even know what that means.”

Things went on in this vein for a little bit.

“Wait a minute, where did you even hear that? Not from me. I don’t hate myself. Does Flora say she hates herself?”

“No.”

“Did you hear that at daycare?” And from whom for goodness sake?

“No.”

Finally, Flora piped up. “It was on TV.”

Wait, what? My girls do not watch tween shows (which I would think would be the culprit here — although as we don’t watch them, i don’t know that to be the case.).

“What TV show?”

“Phineas and Ferb.”

I had to think a little bit. Phineas and Ferb is one of our favorite shows — very adventurous, funny, and entertaining. I (gently) critique the female characters occasionally (Candace is obsessed with busting her little brothers, Isabella wears pink and is a little girlie) but as they get their moments to kick ass and take names, I roll with it. I have never heard either of these female characters utter a line like, “I just hate myself.” Isabella is quite confident of herself (and of how adorable she is) and Candace… well, she’s a bit a control freak, but otherwise okay.

Notice how I assume it’s a female character.

Turns out that the person on the show who uttered the line is Perry the platypus’ boss, Major Monogram. He says it when he told he was too hard on Agent P (really, you have to see the show) and thinks Agent P has quit. (He’s hasn’t; he’s just stuck in the hose. Again, watch the show.)

“Well,” I said, absorbing this information. “First, Kate, you shouldn’t even say you hate yourself. It’s a terrible, ugly thing to say, and you should love yourself. You’re a wonderful little girl.

“Second, I’m going to have to think about us watching that show. We might have to talk about that later.”

Finally, though, how do I know if Kate does feel that way? Can a 3-year-old hate herself, or is she just mouthing dialogue (and seeing my reaction to it; “hate” is not a word we’re allowed to use in our house)? Should I ban a show that we all enjoy because of this one-off situation? (I know, probably not.)

Where do we go from here?

Busted

I accidentally taught Flora the definition of sarcasm last night.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, ostensibly eating her peas. Unfortunately, she was also dropping them on her father’s jacket, which was laying on the floor. (Don’t ask me how it got there. Just don’t.)

I walked over, picked up Dan’s jacket, and picked up Flora’s peas. “Your father’s just going to be thrilled you’re dropping food on his jacket,” I told Flora.

After putting things where they belonged (jacket on hook, peas in sink) I went back to sit down. Flora had clearly been thinking.

Flora: What does thrilled mean?
RPM: It means to be excited about something.
F: Why would Daddy be thrilled about me dropping food on his coat?
RPM: I was being sarcastic.
F: What does sa… that mean?
RPM: Sarcastic means saying something when you mean the opposite. Daddy would be very upset that you were dropping food on his jacket. Not thrilled.

This morning, the girls were up before I was out the door. This makes my mornings so much more difficult, as I am trying to get ready for work, and my girls are busy being all dependent on me and crap.

In the midst of dressing myself, they butted heads about something. Shrill little girl voices were being raised.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, “I just love when you guys get up before I leave for work!”

“Mommy, you’re being sarstastic again,” Flora pointed out.

Note to self: The older one is retaining information now. Be careful what you decide to explain thinking, “She won’t remember this.” Thanks, Me