My husband and I are movie junkies – specifically, we love comedies. We laugh along with our favourites, never tiring of the slapstick humour or unlikely escapades that seem to drive the storylines.
And, I’m not sure if you’d find this endearing or annoying, but we also love to quote one-liners from the movies, several times per day, every day. It’s not unusual to hear my husband mutter jewels from Superbad, There’s Something About Mary or Wedding Crashers, and I have a penchant for pulling the best quotes from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, Sideways and Dumb and Dumber.
So *of course* my boys know about the “Circle of Trust”, made famous by Meet the Parents.
This past long weekend, we once again had a beach day up north. As I watched Reid construct what I believed to be an intricate castle, I asked him to describe what he was creating.
“This is the Circle of Trust,” he said. “You sit over there.”
Wait a second – “You don’t trust me?” I asked, pretending to be hurt. “No,” he answered. “You always say you’ll do things and then you don’t. You told me we could go to the park if I cleaned my room, and when I finished cleaning my room you said it was too late. You told me I could have a popsicle when I finished my dinner, and when I finished it you couldn’t find any in the freezer. You’re always lying.”
Huh. In my defense, he didn’t finish cleaning his room until 8:30pm. Of course we weren’t going to the park after his bedtime. And his brother had eaten the last popsicle without me knowing – but I did go out the very next morning to buy more.
It’s funny how I’m going about my life, parenting, doing my best. And in my kid’s eyes, I’m a liar. I’m out of the Circle of Trust.
I sat on my beach chair, thinking about it. At the time, I did explain to Reid why we couldn’t go to the park, and what happened to the last popsicle. Do I try to explain myself again? Should I negotiate with my 6-year old to get back into the Circle of Trust?
Screw it, I thought. I’m his mom, not his friend. The Circle of Trust is too claustrophobic, anyways.