There were things I misunderstood as a kid. For one, I thought "hospital" was pronounced hossbelow. (Below what? The hoss, of course!) And then I learned how to read. "Ohhh. There's a "'pital.'"
I also thought people who lived in "stair houses" were crazy rich. Then Heather invited me over to her stair house. What was I thinking? Not a single thing fancy. Especially the stair part. And it was all so... so beige. Besides, she tried getting me to watch Poltergeist with her, and I was all, "I'm out."
And now my own kids have some pretty weird ideas. But nothing this mom has to worry about... or should she?
While frosting my daughter's 12th birthday cake last weekend, she stood by my side to monitor the cake's awesome levels. And in her sweet, spunky, I-just-separated-my-sparkly-stickers-from-the-non-sparkly enthusiasm, she said to me, "This cake is gonna be sooo good, it's gonna be Rated R! C'mon Mom, make it super Rated R!"
GASP! I immediately began speaking in sentence fragments: "Uh, honey... where did you... how come... what you mean is... we don't... why would I??"
So once I finally gathered my thoughts, I gave her a PG-rated explanation for her R-rated confusion. And then I saw her logic.
Turns out she thought the higher a movie's rating, the better the movie. Like PG is better than G, PG-13 is better than PG, and so on. Like how chocolate cake with whipped cream and strawberries and grated Hershey's chocolate bar on top is better than chocolate cake without.
Bless her little pre-teen heart.
And bless my little post-teen heart (super post) for still misunderstanding things. And though I've been chided a time or two by a few folks (that's right, uptight health insurance rep... I will never understand your lame explanation of deductibles), I'm certainly glad I have yet to receive a stern "Have I taught you nothin'?" from heaven, for God's patience, understanding, and love have always flowed like the Magic Shell that went on the ice cream THAT WENT ON the already "R-rated" birthday cake.
And when it comes to birthday cake, I'm certainly glad my daughter didn't ask for an X-rated cake. Or worse, a XXX cake! At least there's that. And I know for sure she never expected anyone to jump out of it.