Monday, August 24, 2015

My son thinks I'm a cold-blooded killer

We had a minor incident where my son saw me clap-kill a fruit fly in our kitchen and since that clearly murderous moment, he's been eyeing my behaviors around animals very closely. I've been on my best behavior and have only been killing fruit flies after he goes to bed or is at preschool. As far as he's concerned, it was just an isolated incident for which I have already profusely apologized.

Yesterday, I was helping his sister wash her hands in the sink and Little Buddha (I'm just going to refer to him as that because it's so much more appropriate than his name at the moment) was chatting with me about something - probably Mutant Mania or something. I saw a little gnat lazily wander by the stream of water flowing in the sink and I couldn't help myself. I splashed the gnat and helped the water wash the poor guy down the sink. Was it a heartless act? Probably but I really thought Little Buddha's attention was somewhere else.


Little Buddha: Why did you just do that, Mama?!? Why did you get that bug wet? It wasn't hurting anyone! It can't swim in the sink. It's not supposed to be in the sink!

Me: What? Was that a bug? [Incredulous look] I thought that was just a black spot on the sink. I didn't know it was a little bug.

Foolishly I thought I could back out of this with a little fib. Nope.

LB: It wasn't a black spot though, it was a fly. Why did you do that?

Me: I'm sorry, Little Buddha. I didn't realize it was a fly. I won't ever get a fly wet again.

We carry on and unfortunately, my lax attitude towards cleaning is about to bite me in the rumpa. I have been really busy working every day from the minute I drop the kids off at preschool until the second I pick them up. I've been focused on everything else and have totally let housekeeping, laundry, grocery shopping, you name it, slide past me.

There just so happens to be a dead fly in the middle of the hardwood floor of the living room. I swear, it wasn't there earlier! He literally showed up dead on my doorstep. We both discover the carcass at the same time. Little Buddha happens upon the quite large and very much dead house fly and turns on me with so much hurt in his eyes.

LB: YOU KILLED ANOTHER FLY! How could you do this? You made a promise!

Me: Little Buddha! I swear, I did NOT kill that fly. He died completely on his own. He died a perfectly natural death. It was just his time to die.

LB: How did he die then? [indignant stance] I don't see flies just dropping out of the air. Did you do this? [He claps his hands loudly in my usual fruit fly killing manner]

Me: No, I did not clap him.

LB: What about this? [He slaps his palm onto the hardwood floor]. Did you squish him?!

Me: No, I swear. I did not kill that fly.

At this point, Little Buddha is so adamant in his demonstrations of possible fly-killing methods that I'm trying really hard not to laugh. His shrill little boy voice and hand slapping is just too comical. You know when the corners of your mouth are dying to go into FULL SMILE and you have to fight it? It totally makes you look like you're lying. My mouth was betraying my true innocence.

Me: OK, Little Buddha. You were right. I didn't think that fly was a black spot on the sink. I did wash him down and kill him because I thought you weren't watching. I'm sorry for that but I swear - I had nothing to do with this fly's death. I would admit it if I did.

LB: OK. I guess so.

Me: Can we put the fly in the garden? He deserves a burial.

LB: That way he knows where he is?

Me: What do you mean by that? You mean, so he is where he should be?

LB: Yeah. [He cradles the dead fly in his hands, walks it outside and throws it into the garden.] There little fly. Now you know where you are.

These flies need to a) stop being a nuisance and b) stop spontaneously dying on my doorstep and making me look bad.

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