Last week, we celebrated Christmas in New York with my sister and her family. (It was a wonderful trip; I still need to write a comprehensive overview of it. But not right now.)
The Boy made me proud by picking up after himself from time to time. (He’s all of 20 months – a little bit at this age is still impressive.) For example, he played with cars in my nieces’ playroom, then put most of them away before moving on to something else. It wasn’t perfect, but he certainly made the effort.
Anyway, one evening, my sister and I were hanging out in her family room, and The Boy wandered in there after us. My sister pointed to something on the ground and said, “Bring me the tissue.” He looked at her, puzzled, then started touching different things, watching her for approval. It was then that it dawned on me that I hadn’t been using the generic term for the item!
So, I said, “Bring Mama the Kleenex, baby,” and, sure enough, he bent down, picked up the tissue, and brought it to me.
I was just reminded of this when I sat down to write out a list of things I need to make sure I pack in my bag to bring on Monday. Instead of writing “tissues”, I wrote “Kleenex”. Even if I had a box of Puffs at home, I would probably still refer to it as a box of Kleenex.
Kimberly-Clarke has done a fabulous job of brainwashing me. And now I’ve passed it on to my kid.