As Jack grows up, I see it as my duty to teach him a number of important lessons. Lessons such as where it is, and is not appropriate to bring a lightsaber, will surely serve him well as he becomes a productive member of society. One of his most recent lessons was that when you play games, sometimes you do not win. This is, of course, especially true if you play against me at a trivia game, even if the trivia game is just Disney Scene It.
Jack reacted to Mommy's recent victory (which I swear was free of trash talking) by punching me.
Steve and I immediately declared "bedtime" and scooped him up.
Now, Jack is of a mind that if you ahve already hit Mommy, you are pretty much in as much trouble as you can be, so you might as well keep going. His ensuing rampage included throwing a toothpaste covered toothbrush at the wall, pouring a cup of water on the floor, and an impressive overall level of bitchiness.
When he finally calmed down, it was time for the Parental Lecture. This time, I stepped in:
Jack, you know how sometimes Mommy likes to run races? Well, sometimes I win, and it is awesome. I love the feeling of winning, of knowing I ran a great job. And I get to bring home a trophy or a medal, and that's really cool, too. But sometimes, even though I tried my hardest and ran really fast, I don't win. And that makes me mad, and it makes me sad, because I really wanted to win, and I really wanted to get that trophy. But, the other woman beat me fair and square, and that's just the way it is. And it would not be okay for me to hit the woman who beat me in the race, would it?
Jack agreed that it would not.
With the Parental Lecture over and the lesson (hopefully) learned, I tucked him in and kissed him goodnight.
But, you guys?
I cannot get out of my head the image of punching some chick who beat me in a race. She sprints past me to the finish (no doubt 'roided up), and as she turns to congratulate me on a good race, I punch her square in the ear.
That, my friends, would send a message far more clear than the one I tried to impart on Jack, that message being: Do not pass me in a race. I like to think that the word would get out, and other women in my age group would think, "Well, I would like to win, but I would also like to not be punched in the ear. Maybe second place is not so bad."