Pride Lands

A mother’s pride is engrained in the faces of her children. We look at their little cherub faces and take pride in the similarities we see of ourselves, we are meticulous in the outfits we choose for them and teach them the value of taking pride in a job well done.

Well my house has a different take on pride…my children take play acting to the extreme. I now live with Simba and (the male version of) Nala from the Lion King. I wake to a 3-year-old perched on my chest making growling noises at me and flashing tiny white teeth.

This is disturbing not only because my child has decided that communicating in growls is better than words but at any time I am now convinced that a version of the Lord of the Flies is going to break out in my house. I’m waiting for the day that I come home and find my 3-year-old attached to a spit in the front yard with a half-dressed 4-year-old running madly around shouting at the top of his lungs. The only hope is the baby and I’m not convinced he isn’t the mastermind behind all the chaos in the first place!

I have tried convincing my children that snarls and growls aren’t becoming of young gentlemen, but I was met with vacant stares. I tried to explain that we should be careful with our brothers and not treat them like a wounded zebra ready for dinner, but I was met with the proclamation of which brother would be designated as the sacrificial zebra this evening. I tried to reason with my children that their behavior was a direct reflection on my ability as a mother, but I was met with wild laughter and more snarls and growls.

So in the end, I find myself crawling around on all fours growling and roaring alongside my children…if you can’t beat them, join them!