bad mom: bah, humboy

I know where my son gets his sense of drama (Bad Dad, of course) and his clever wit (yours truly), but the way he latches onto the negative side of anything [Disneyland: all a big fake-out; pizza: melted cheese burns mouth] is puzzling.

Yesterday, we drove downtown to watch the tree lighting at Esther Short Park. On the way, I tuned in the radio station that plays Christmas music all the time. Wacky optimist that I am, this seemed like a most pleasant way to spend the evening - wandering around the park on a crisp night, enjoying some activities with friends, listening to local musicians, squealing for Santa. No. The Young Cynic wondered, loudly & in a crabby tone, why people bother putting lights on such a huge tree and who cares about seeing it light up? Plus, how will we find our friends in such a big crowd? What KIND of activities will there be and will they even be FUN?

But the most troubling part of this very poorly planned outing? When people mess up Christmas songs by changing the tune or singing the words in a "weird" way, or WORSE - making up stupid stuff like girls wishing for only one present and that's A BOYFRIEND. (Okay, I have to admit it is a corny concept but I can't help singing along with Mariah...).

We finally made it to a parking space without me having to slam on the brakes ~~more than once~~ and/or tape his mouth shut (though I did turn the radio up to ear-bleeding level for The Beach Boys' "Frosty the Snowman"). As we entered the park, friendly elves handed us candy canes; Mason attempted gaiety ~~when I reminded him that he is now old enough to stay in a locked car by himself~~ immediately.