Super Mommy Scares the Crap Out of Me

the salon where i get my nails done every two weeks is a hair salon with a few manicurist stations. they are not separated in any way, so i can hear the conversations the hair stylists have with their clients. these conversations tend to be the banal kinds of conversations one has with a hair stylist, current events, new movies, the weather, etc... and are usually not worth eavesdropping in on. except for one...

this one stylist in particular talks about her son non-stop. for our purposes, let's just call her Jocasta. her son is four years old and is the smartest, funniest, bestest child that ever drew breath according to her. i have NEVER heard Jocasta talk about anything other than this kid, and i have been going there every two weeks for about three years. and my manicurist, Lisa, confirms that it goes all on all day long, with no respite. let's show a little sympathy for Lisa for having to hear that babble all day long. and kudos for not just losing it and stabbing Jocasta with a nail file. i can't say i would be able to exercise such restraint.

this woman is destined to become the Monster Mother in Law every woman dreads. right now, there is some innocent four year old girl who is oblivious to what her future holds twenty years from now. a moment of silence for poor little Madyson, please.

anyway, one day i am there and Jocasta is telling her client yet another "super cute" thing her son had done recently. he is in preschool now and one of his little buddies has a "girlfriend." ok, that's kind of cute. i am not totally without a soul.  he tells her that he wants a girlfriend, too. still within the realm of cute. then she says to him, "you don't want a girlfriend. you have me. Mommy is your girlfriend."

after i picked my jaw up off the floor, i whispered to Lisa, "that kid is going to grow up to be either a serial killer or priest. and for his sake, i hope he REALLY loves Jesus."