My Craptacular Parenting Skills

Here's the story.

Last night I was watching that video of the grape stomping lady face-planting, and I was laughing my frickin' ass off. My seven-year-old daughter was sitting on the couch, so I called her over to watch it.

I've practically got tears rolling down my face, because this video gets funnier every time I watch it. Suddenly I realize that my baby is staring at me with a look of horror on her little face, like I'm the devil or something. She goes, "Mom, that lady really got hurt. It's not very nice to laugh when someone falls and gets hurt." Aw, crap. I mean, I should be glad that my kid is compassionate and has a conscience, but... crap.

Using my faulty reasoning, I figured that I could redeem myself in her eyes by watching it again and not laughing, maybe even showing a little concern. Well, I couldn't do it. I really, really did try, but I just couldn't keep a straight face. I turned to her to apologize for my sick, crass sense of humor, only to find that she was cracking a smile and even giggling a little. Yep, she's one of mine.

I told this story to my best friend, who was kind enough to point out that I just totally corrupted my angelic little baby. Yeah, thanks for that, hon.

Now I feel like the most craptacular mom on the planet. Without thinking, I am raising a new generation of sick individuals who totally get off on the misfortune and pain of others. I am training up a tiny new army of people who have a spidey sense for someone about to fall down, spill something, or otherwise be embarrassed or humiliated. One of my boys actually saw a fat little teacher walking to the car to talk to me when I picked the kids up from school one day and begged me to drive off so he could watch her run after us and possibly slip on the ice. Mmmmm hmmmm. That's my boy. Of course I didn't do it, but I did picture it in my mind and laughed a little.

Here's the awful thing: while I should be 1000% mortified, the wicked, horrible part of me is just a little proud. "And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me, he'd grown up just like me. My boy was just like meeeeee... And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon..." Okay, okay... I'm stopping now.