'Cause someone's bound to get offended. If you happen to be a friend of mine, and you fit or have ever fit the description below, don't think I don't like you. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't hang out with you. And why do you care if I like you anyway?
There. I said it.
A couple of days ago Mina, as she does on an almost daily basis, asked me a hard-to-answer question completely out of left field.
Sometimes she wants to know what would happen if our house caught on fire.
"...but what if you and Daddy were asleep and couldn't save us?"
"...but what if you didn't wake up in time?"
"...but what if all my toys burned up? I like my toys!"
..."but I DON'T WANT NEW ONES!"
Neurosis is hereditary, and her future therapist(s) are going to hate me.
Her latest was, "Mama, what's a hippy?"
I try to keep it clean and, when necessary, clear cut and simple around the kidlets, so I told her it was someone who cared a lot about the Earth.
She thought about it for a moment.
"I care about the Earth! And Jesus."
Always with the Jesus, that one.
Then she wanted to know if Jesus was a hippy, and the more I thought about it the more I felt I could honestly answer in the affirmative.
"Mama, am I a hippy?"
I went through a more extensive checklist in my head:
-cares about the environment: check
-likes to run around naked: check
-doesn't brush hair: check
-listens to crappy music: not when I can help it
-smells like patchouli: negative
-feels superiority over everyone else: sometimes
-follows overrated bands around the country: not that I know of
-sleeps with everyone's boyfriend: presently, no
"No honey, you are not a hippy. And if I have anything to say about it, you won't ever be."
