Dear Universe…

Here’s the thing, Universe. I know you have plenty of secular humanist quantum physics believers coming to you for their own personal issues. I know some people ask God for a football win and some promise rewards to various saints for getting what they need. But you, Universe, are more than just convenience. You are the problem.

If you could just, for a while, and just in our house, suspend all your physical laws, I would really appreciate it. Because the reality in which objects fall when not balanced properly on a spoon, where yarn is not strong enough to operate as a tow line for a bicycle, where puzzles do not fall into completion without effort and within moments of tumbling out of their box…this reality simply will not do for a certain 3.75 year old who lives here.

Look, I’m not one of those helicopter parents who want to fix the world for their kid. I just want the screaming to stop. When a blanket refuses to stay on the handlebars of a two-pound scooter, he screams as though he were on fire. When a one-foot doll cannot fit into a nine-inch fire engine, he cries as though someone severed his head from his tiny body.

So seriously, Universe, do this for me. For my sanity. He’ll learn physics in school like everyone else, as long as this country still teaches science by the time he’s in school. If not, meh. He doesn’t need to be all exerciing his natural scientific abilities on my time. I’m doing my part for you, Universe, what with obeying the law of gravity and keeping a finger on the pulse on the whole “liquid on Saturn’s moon” awesomeness.

So throw me a freaking bone, wouldya?

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13 thoughts on “Dear Universe…

  1. Oh, wow. I feel you.

    We have been trying to teach Youngest to say “No biggie.” Tee hee. No verdict on whether or not it will stick, but yesterday he said it after spilling milk (instead of having grade 7 meltdown).

    May I commend you on the stylistic brilliance of your explanation here? You’re just so interesting and smart. Loved this post.

  2. The universe could surely throw a bone, but with your issues with gravity and all, it seems a strange tragic Coyote/Roadrunner… meep meep… incident would follow. May I suggest a soft fluffy pillow?

    I’m doubtful we’ll have science. *sigh*

  3. Kitch, I love “fell into the crazy” as though it were a vat of butter. She durn near drowned in it, too.
    Ink, I like “no biggie.” Mine doesn’t seem to mind spilling. It’s when he imagines perfection and falls short. Wonder where he gets that.
    Jane, Jane, sweet Jane. Who are we kidding? I still actually listen for reindeer hooves but there’s no way our kids are getting a grip on reality or that reality will bow to our will for a while. Oh well. Feels good to beg for it.
    jc, as always, you have a splendid point. Laughed at the ACME reference, for it is apt. I will now ask the Universe to throw me dandelion puffs instead of bones. (btw, I believe we’ll have science, but probably only if I homeschool. And we’d be all biology and chemistry around here, with nary a post-Newtonian explanation beyond “because Glenn T. Seaborg said so and I believe him.” I guess that’s like other homeschoolers teaching their own kind of faith, right?

  4. I love this! You’ve got it so right, the only thing to do is to plead with the universe – bones, dandelion puffs, scraps of whatever.

    My almost 4-year-old may be too young for things like patience, reason, perspective, or being considerate, but now I know where to turn. I will ask the universe for a few favours. Just the temporary suspension of a few laws, like you say, no big deal really.

  5. my ears are ringing, what i can hear of the ringing. the girls are continually throwing fits. mimi howls about clothing and shoes not flying on and off her body as fast as she needs them to, and beenie howls when mimi fucks with her, which is all day, every day. they are trying to make us deaf, the children. which, in a way, would be a relief from listening to them yell. thanks kids!

  6. Macondo, you’re welcome to come over whenever the basic tennets of physics stop applying here. You’ll love living in zero gravity.
    J, Preschooler-induced tinnitis? Thank goodness health insurance still prevails over health care and nobody will approve treatments to fix the ringing for us. Next best thing to ending the shrieking is not hearing the shrieking.

  7. Oh, God. I know. I know. And I worry they’ll keep up these stupid fits until their old like their father. It’s hard to keep that patience in your voice to explain to try again or differently after it had just happened two minutes before and two minutes before that and two minutes before . . . .

  8. Pingback: 10 Things I Know « Naptime Writing

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