No Worries....

(Alternate title: Hakuna Matada, My Ass!)

I've noticed something: Every time M. says, "don't worry!" I start to worry.

Wednesday's Examples:
"This shirt has two tags that are bothering me, Mommie! They BAA-ther me! But, but... ah... don't worry! I will get the scissors!"

"Don't worry! I will make your coffee for you!"

Q: "Miles! What are you doing in there with the water running?"
A: "Uh, don't worry! I am using soap!"

Talking to his toys, while playing in his room: "Don't worry, mens! I am coming! I will rescue you!" (CRASH!) "I SAID, Don't worry! ...I'M COMING!"

Thursday's Examples:
Q: "What are you doing on that stool, Miles?"
A: "I am getting medicine. For my cough. I haffa take it every day. Don't worry! I won't forget, Mommie."

Exclamation: "Miles! GET OFF THE TRASH CAN!"
Response: "Don't worry, Mom. I am being safe!"

Life with a boy-child is the best proof I have that women really are from Venus, and men are from Mars. We are like different species co-existing in this house. Would it ever occur to me to drag a step-stool over and climb atop the lidded trash can? Nope.

I swear, this child can break rules we could never think to make! And, yet, at every turn, he tells me, "don't worry." Maybe this is providence, his endless repitition of the phrase so that one day it will sink in. Until then, I'm not exactly humming Hakuna Matada every mornin', you know?

...But I am working on my own trouble-free philosophy. A little visualization I call The Year of Our Lord 2034. In this year, Miles will be as old as I am now. He'll be grown and perhaps married and perhaps with a little red-headed firecracker of his own.

If so, I imagaine that I will meet my daughter-in-law over coffee, and she will exclaim about her child's proclivities. I will offer a sympathetic smile and squeeze her shoulder. I will nod my head. And in solidarity I will say, "Yes, I know. It really IS this hard.
... But you'll never regret it."