As a kid, I always had better things to do than to sit inside and stare at the TV. There were bikes to ride, fields to run in, snow to throw, and friends to find. With the exception of Saturday morning cartoons, TV was boring. Further amplifying the boring, we lived in a neighborhood that couldn't get cable. The rabbit ears and tinfoil that sat on top of our TV wrangled us a whopping three stations, and one of them was fuzzy enough to make you think you had come across a scrambled porn channel. I didn't care, though. TV didn't interest me in the least.
It still doesn't. I'll watch it if it's on, but I currently have no OMG! MUST! WATCH! shows (I used to be hooked on Gilmore Girls, but alas, my special friends have left me . . . ). I could very easily go without any TVs in the house. In fact, a constant source of battle in our lives is that I would LOVE to be rid of the TVs and cable. Meanwhile, I am married to someone who LOVES his TVs and cable.
Personality wise, Alexis is 95% mine. That other 5% is the rogue-must-watch-TV-as-much-as-possible in her. She and Mr. Husband will sit and watch movies and TV for hours and hours and hours, blissfully peaceful and happy. I start twitching after five minutes and wind up flat-out too bored to stay awake after about ten.
That's my excuse for why I never know what the heck my kid is talking about. I mean, she goes on and on and on about her favorite shows and I'm all, the what? Who? Huh? I get lost somewhere between the Carly and the Wizards and the WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THESE THINGS? Sorry. I just don't care about the people on The Disney Channel.
Alexis does. A lot.
There is one show in particular that she quotes frequently. It happens to be a show that annoys me to the point of putting me in a coma if I so much as set eyes on it. Phineas and Ferb. I know plenty of adults who like it, but ZOMG. I just want Ferb to bust out in an angry fit, punching anything and everything around as he yells, "I'M TOO SMART FOR YOU DOUCHENUGGETS!" or something. Anything, actually, just so long as Candace is caught by his fists of fury.
I sort of REALLY don't like Candace. I've never really figured out why until today.
Today Alexis and I were making our way over the hills and through the woods on our way home. The calendar says it's December, so that means Alexis was in the back seat being a jerk. It took me all these years to figure out that December is the kid's Evil Month . . . the month when she forgets how to be polite, when her mouth writes checks her butt can't cash, and when I generally want to just duct tape her to a wall, knowing full well that she'll return to normal all on her own once the New Year hits. She sat in the back seat running her mouth, and I sat in the front seat threatening her with all sorts of things.
Let's just say she lost a few toys today. More than a few, actually.
Somewhere along the way I reminded her that kids who are bad don't get Christmas presents.
She thought about it for a second but then confidently informed me that "Candace was bad and she still got her Christmas presents." The "So there," was implied.
I knew I hated that Candace.