Well-intended, but W-R-O-N-G

That would describe me.

So often when I describe a person as being well-intended it's someone else. My attitude tends to be a wee bit condescending when I say it. But today it is me. So I'm not as arrogant as usual. A small sigh, a little shake of the head. Apparently I'm feeling dramatic as I type, because it's really not that big of a deal.

There are a number of things that I wanted to do as I parent my darling son. My hopes and dreams were well-intended, but boy was I wrong about what life would actually be like.

For instance: I was planning on my child being 17 years old and asking a friend what a french fry was. Seriously. My goal was to have him not eat french fries and never, ever taste soda. Then we went on a road trip. I underestimated the number of snacks we would need. So we stopped to grab a burger and fries. One bite, and my vocal little boy, with an awesome memory, was hooked. Apparently someone in PR should get a bonus. Because my child who is just now beginning to recognize letters can recognize a burger joint from a half mile away. And since he remembers what they house, he yells for burgers on a regular basis. So, he knows what french fries are. And he loves them. He ate some yesterday. At least he hasn't had soda. . .yet.

Other plan smashed to smithereens: never have the TV babysit my child. We watched that goal blow away in the blistering wind today. We went out to play. The weather pushed us back in. My son was devastated. Since the day had already lasted 126 hours, Mommy was out of ideas. So shocking words rolled out of my mouth, "Do you want to watch a show?" Of course, he did.

Yesterday: fries. Today: television. My son is still standing strong, but I'm hoping his brain and body don't turn to complete mush by the weekend.

How very humbling parenting has been already. I wonder what else I will be wrong about in the coming years?

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