First of all let’s get something straight, kid. It’s not a couch. Okay? Because if you go to any dictionary, it will clearly state that a couch is “a long upholstered piece of furniture for several people to sit on”. This thing is a piece of foam covered with red fuzzy material marketed by Sesame Street so they can keep shoving the most annoying, sonic abomination of a puppet down the throats of disgruntled parents all over the world.
Do I even have to say the puppet’s name? No, I didn’t think so.
And if I sat my son down and explained it to him in these exact words, he’d look at me like I was the one acting strangely according to the rules of conduct in today’s modern society.
Only in the world of children can complete rational thought and proper behavior seem bizarre and incorrect.
Why do kids get to walk around with “couches” on their heads like it’s perfectly normal, but the minute we adults try something silly like that, we’re asked to seek therapy? Or a strait jacket.
When I look at my kids, I feel great envy. They wake up in the morning and stumble around in their wrinkled pajamas, completely unaware of the unnecessarily loud volume of their voices for the morning hours, and sporting what I can only describe as Phyllis Diller hair. And if I have to drive to the store because we are running low on milk for that particular morning’s breakfast, it is perfectly okay for them to get in the car in their said wrinkled pajamas and Phyllis Diller coiffes, and no one around us would say “boo”. Mainly because their children are also exhibiting similarly shocking and bedraggled appearances.
But if we, the adults, step out of line just once…well you can just picture it, can’t you:
You’re in the supermarket singing Coldplay on the top of your lungs and off key. You break down and whine-cry in a tantrum-like fashion for about 15 minutes in the middle of aisle 3 because your favorite Fiber One cereal is out of stock. You get to the checkout line and take all the coupons out of your wrinkled pajama pockets, counting each one in a loud and drawn out fashion, cheering and clapping maniacally when you get to the very last one; your Phyllis Diller hair peeks out in every direction from your Kmart hoodie. And for the grand finale, go ahead and stick a finger up your nose.
Now imagine a child doing this very same thing. Perfectly expected. Perfectly normal.
Kids have all the fun. They get to just be who they really are while we adults have to hide our wrinkled pajamas and bad hair and keep couches away from our heads. It’s just unfair, really.
If only I could walk into a family event, social gathering or one of my yoga classes the way my children leave the house some days.
Then again I teach children, so they’d probably just be thinking, “Hey, she’s really cool and behaving totally normal! Just like us!”