The Important Life Lessons

There are many very important things we all try to teach our children. For example, I have taught Alexis that "crayon" has two syllables. Coca-Cola is "soda," not "pop." She has never, ever referred to a cart as a "buggy."

There's more. She knows that Santa wraps gifts. She puts peanut butter on both sides of a peanut butter sandwich. One of my favorite things that she gets right is that when she replaces the toilet paper roll (which she actually does do! hooray!), she puts it on so the paper goes over.

As it should be.

But there are some things that she hasn't gotten right. My repeated attempts at teaching her the ways of the world sometimes succeed, but then sometimes they fail. Sometimes they fail tremendously.

The toilet seat is to be left in an up and prepared for use position. Don't even argue with me on this one, because I'm right. The bathroom door gets closed, but the toilet lid stays up. The end.

Alexis disagrees.

It started a few months ago. Unfortunately, I learned of this earth-shattering wrongness at something like 2:00 in the morning and I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT OMG.

I thought it was a fluke at first, but then the behavior continued. Every time I would walk into a bathroom, the toilet lid would be down. It was like I was living with a barbarian who didn't understand how this world is supposed to work. LEAVE THE LID UP, DANGNABIT.

Night-after-night, day-after-day, I was stuck dealing with the extra effort that is a toilet lid that has been put down. It was more than a minor inconvenience because me and 2:00 in the morning have been super close friends as of late and I'm not real smart at 2:00 in the morning. 2:00 in the morning is the kind of friend that sucks your brain cells out of your head and leaves you stumbling into walls and stuff in the middle of the night.

Finally, I decided to ask Alexis what the story is because IT IS WRONG. It was time to rewrite the story and make life easier. Alexis' answer to why she started putting the lid down? "Because there's bad air in there and I don't want it to escape."

I don't even know what that means. Is toxic gas escaping her body when she uses the bathroom? Is she afraid she is going to harm others if she doesn't protect us? I DON'T KNOW. I just know that I keep trying and trying to convince the kid to come back to the happy side of the toilet lid life, but I'm getting nowhere.

And that is why I plan to remove every toilet lid in this house. I WILL WIN.

The Secrets That We Keep

If Alexis knew this, she would stomp her foot, put on her best Cowher chin, and declare, "THAT'S NOT FAIR," but I had a TV in my bedroom growing up.

She asks for one in her room weekly, but it ain't happening. We have three people in this house and three TVs. By my math, that is sufficient. Even better, when there are four people, there will still be three TVs because I AM SO MEAN OMG.

Anyway, Alexis wants a TV in her bedroom, but will never get one. I had one, but it came with some catches. For one, the screen was a tiny 12" across, which means it was the same size as the tablet Alexis often uses to play Minion Rush. Is this generation spoiled much? I dunno, but when she uses that tablet, it doesn't require manually turning a dial to change what's on the screen. Alexis also knows nothing of rabbit ears, aluminum foil, and only having access to three television stations.

Those of you old enough to remember life with rabbit ears, no cable, and tiny screens get it. Alexis definitely doesn't.

My refusal to let her have a TV has nothing to do with the fact that I'm jealous that she has better technology than I ever did, though. It has to do with how I used that TV. I wasn't home often, but when I was, I was holed up in my bedroom, staring at that little screen as I created mix tapes, prank called people, and did all of those other things kids did in the 80s.

I really didn't interact with my parents. It started early and it stayed that way. They wanted to watch whatever they wanted to watch, so I was told to go watch my own TV.

I want the opposite for Alexis. I don't particularly feel the need to watch any shows at any time (because DVR), so I'm content with letting her control the remote, just so long as she's sitting on the couch beside me and hanging out with me as she pushes the limits of reasonable consumption of The Disney Channel.

It's because she watches TV with me that we discovered it. Together we discovered that we both enjoy watching The Voice, albeit for different reasons. I'm there to admire the beauty and majesty that is Adam Levine. She is there to admire the beauty and majesty that is truly talented singers. She cheers them on, gets all sorts of kerfluffled when someone does well, and absolutely glows when the judges agree with her about a performance.

Watching her watch that show is often a highlight of my week.

But don't tell her because then she'll stop watching in hopes of tricking me into putting a TV in her bedroom.

She Can Keep a Surprise, but Barely

Every once in a while I like to prove to Alexis that I really do trust her, and that's exactly why she was in on the surprise birthday shenanigans that came together over the weekend. The husband graduated from "grumpy man" to "grumpy old man" and the only way to celebrate that is while surrounded by friends who like you enough to spare you the confetti canons that your wife bought.

I will find a way to use the confetti canons, y'all. I haven't given up on that dream.

Anyway, Alexis knew about the surprise party two weeks before it was set to be held. I was pretty confident that she would be able to keep the secret, and I'm glad to say she was. She only came close to slipping once. That was while we were eating dinner and he was talking about how the neighbors (who were in on the surprise) were bugging him to do something for his birthday. I responded that it was fine if he did, and Alexis' head nearly exploded. She didn't say anything, but she most definitely turned to me and dramatically mouthed, "BUT, MOM, THE PARTY."

I explained to her later that sometimes trickery is involved in surprises, to which she replied, "Ohhhhhh! Now I get it!"

So the day to carry out the shenanigans arrived, and Alexis had kept her trap shut. I was really very impressed, especially because she had to sit at a restaurant table and eat dinner without admitting that she knew that people were sneaking into our house at that very moment. Can you imagine being 8-years old and knowing that and yet having to sit there and ask for more chips and salsa? The kid did good, is what I'm saying.

But I KNEW there was no way she could last another second.

As luck would have it, the husband and I had driven separately to the restaurant, so I managed to convince Alexis that she should ride home with me. She closed her door, started to put on her seatbelt, and LOST IT.

"MOM! I'M SO EXCITED! HE DOESN'T KNOW! I HAVE SO MANY WORDS I WANT TO SAY! I CAN'T TAKE IT! ARE THEY THERE YET? WHO IS THERE? HE DOESN'T KNOW! I'M SO EXCITED THAT I'M SHAKING, MOM!" The words cascaded out of her mouth, one after another, falling from her face like a chain of dominos.

She spoke in rapid fire CAPS LOCK and exclamation points all the way home. I'm not sure which one of us felt like the drive was longer, but I know for a fact someone picked up our house and moved it 20 miles further away.

Even with the extra distance, we somehow beat the husband to the house. Our friends were tucked safely inside with the lights out, waiting to scream surprise, while Alexis stood in our driveway VIBRATING WITH EXCITEMENT OMG. She couldn't gather her thoughts enough to go inside, nor could she stand there without running laps in her head because OMG VIBRATING WITH EXCITEMENT.

I have never needed duct tape as much as I did at that moment.

Somehow, someway, I had predicted a crazy moment just like that one, so I happened to have balloons in my car. I busied Alexis with getting them out of the car and told her to stand in the driveway and scream "SURPRISE!" while she handed the husband his balloons.

It worked.

That was enough for her to get the absolute need to spill the beans out of her system.

But barely.

Let's just say it's a really good thing he was completely clueless and made it into the house quickly. The poor kid wouldn't have survived another 0.000000001 seconds.