Do you know when making your child learn math turns into a bad thing?
I can tell you when it’s a bad thing.
It’s a bad thing that moment when you and your eight year old have this exact discussion…
*Friday, in the van taking Zach over to play at his friend’s house*
“Momma, you’re the same age as ------ (friend’s older brother), right?”
“Close. I’m 25 and ------ is going to be 26 in a few months.”
“Oh.” *quiet for a few minutes* “So you got married when you were seventeen?”
You see where this is going, don’t you? Me, I totally did NOT see where he was going with that.
“Huh? No. Daddy and I got married when we were nineteen.”
“WHAT??? You mean you weren’t married when you had me!!??”
That (and the following questioning and reassuring of yes, this does still make his dad is his dad, no I never married anyone else, and the fact that yes, that did mean he was almost one when I graduated high school) is the moment when teaching your child math becomes a bad thing.
On a related note…
My baby sister turned sixteen on Sunday. It’s so discombobulating. Right now, she’s the age I was when I got pregnant with Zach, and Zach is the age she was. It just doesn’t seem like it’s been that long at all, yet at that age Zach could make me a grandmother… and HE’S ALREADY HALF WAY TO IT. Say, huh? I know that getting pregnant at sixteen is super young, but since it’s just been well “Yeah I did that…” for me, thinking that one of my kids might makes it seem so much younger. Hell, thinking about my sister getting pregnant at this age is like “Oh hell no.” Thankfully, I’m pretty sure she has more sense than me and is just not having sex. She’s all annoyingly snobby and says stuff like “You are the reason I’m not having sex until I get married.” But it’s OK… she can totally use me as an excuse, I don’t want her having any babies yet also.