Adult Chicken.
As kids, a lot of us grew up thinking adults knew the answer to every question. We thought they had the intuition to navigate life and raise children. In contrast, most of us adults have absolutely no clue what we are doing. Many of us just make up answers as we go along. Now, I have the luxury to be creative with how I raise my children (including how I answer their interesting questions). Sandler is inquisitive and will challenge most answers people give. However, we have established to not question authority. That authority being: me.
Take the inevitable topics of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Topics that really put parents’ child-rearing skills to the test. Sex, I have chosen to creatively avoid (hopefully for another fifteen to twenty years). Rock-n-Roll has required little intervention. Sandler’s old soul gravitates toward classic rock. We share a deep passion for The Who and Bread. Rarely do I need to step in and redirect his taste (or lack of) for music. I have found the dreaded topic of drugs to be the most challenging thus far. Although, I surprised myself with my original explanation, that has not only resonated, but also discouraged any further questioning.
Several years ago we arrived at a friends house who was baking medicinal cookies for hospice. The aroma was, let’s say, present. Sandler, having a sweet tooth for baked goods, thought he had walked into cookie heaven and reached for one immediately. Without thinking I quickly grabbed the cookie out of his hand. I explained that it was an “adult cookie” and you have to be thirty five or older to eat it. I was thrilled my answer was received and he released the edible without inquiry. Crisis averted.
Fast forward a year later, and we relocated to a neighborhood where most people spend their time soaking up the sunshine and smoking unlimited quantities of cannabis. One day in particular some neighbors were listening to some music, grilling chicken, having some drinks, and smoking marijuana. Sandler caught a whiff and recognized the smell immediately. He forced me outside, pointed in the direction of the scent, and said in a tattletale tone, “Mommy! They are eating ‘adult chicken’—I can’t have that until I’m thirty five.” It was then I realized not only had his retention for information been underestimated, but my creative explanation of weed being forbidden had been very affective.
That is how it became known as “adult chicken” in our house. Sandler is quick to inform those who are enjoying their cannabis that he doesn’t like “adult chicken”. The confused looks never get old. I proudly smile to myself and sigh in relief that we have at least one daunting parental topic covered for the the time being.
- Nikki