Word to My Mother. {An Apology}

Dear Mom,

Sometimes I write long and wordy blog posts, taking much care to define things, link to explanations, or otherwise clarify references for those that might not understand.

But most of the time, I go with subtlety, assuming that my reading audience will pick up on my references and find them more amusing if not explained.

The latter, although my preferred method of communication, can often result in relational Confusion and Delay between you and I.

(In case anyone missed it, the “Confusion and Delay” was from Thomas And Friends, or, more specifically, Sir Topham Hatt.)

But this is my fault, not yours.

I am your daughter.

It is my God-given responsibility to ensure that you are informed on the latest pop culture trends.  You should know that Ke$ha is spelled with a dollar sign, that the actress who plays Lady Grantham on Downton Abbey is also in a rock band, that Princess Kate is pregnant, and that Lady Gaga might or might not be a man.

And if you don’t, then I’m clearly failing you in an unforgivable way.

So I shouldn’t have laughed at you when you asked in reference to yesterday’s post, “What does ‘Ice, Ice Baby’ mean?”

I shouldn’t have looked at you with the expression of bizarre fascination similar to the countenance of a small child at the zoo upon seeing a brightly colored Baboon Butt for the first time when you followed up with, “Is it a song lyric or something?”

I shouldn’t have scoffed at that question.  After all, you always told me that no question is stupid – only not asking is stupid.

(Okay, maybe you didn’t say that.  But someone did.)

Nevertheless, it was wrong.  And I’m sorry.

I also shouldn’t have laughed at your attempted defense of,  “Your Father didn’t know what it meant, either.”

And I shouldn’t have snorted when you turned to my 85 year old Grandmother and defensively asked her, “Do you know what it means?”

It was wrong.  And I’m sorry.

Also.

I probably shouldn’t have shared this astounding bit of news on my Facebook page, therefore giving my readers the opportunity to make more fantastic references that you will likely never understand.

Ice Ice Baby

And finally, I probably shouldn’t have made my apology public.

So I’m sorry for this post, too.

I’ll make it all up to you by buying you this vintage collectible for Christmas:

To the Extreme

Be sure to check out the hook while the DJ revolves it.

Sincerely,

Your Very Repentant Daughter


The Moral of This Post Is: She who teaches her daughter to write may one day get written about.