The Hazards of Being Opinionated

My son is at a lovely stage in life where he parrots everything I say.  I'm not kidding.  When Jacob and I get into an argument - er, discussion - I know that I've got the advantage.  It'll always be two against one.  What about Mindy, you ask?  She can't be bothered to invest in conversation with her family.

Jacob complained to me about this the other night.  He's annoyed that Isaac always takes my side.  After pointing out the boy's obvious intelligence and discernment, I also suggested the main reason Isaac doesn't parrot Jacob's opinions: Jacob doesn't have any.

Jacob's lack of opinion is probably what drew me to him in the first place.  He is so darn relaxing to be around!  It's why everyone likes him best (especially my mother).  He's a good, non-judgmental listener, never trying to insert his own opinion, but patiently listening to yours.  It's lovely, let me tell you.

I think it's easier on him, as well.  The number one hazard of being opinionated is, of course, that you're often wrong, no matter how intelligent and thoughtful you are.  I have long wished I was capable of just shutting up, for pete's sake.  It would save me so much backtracking, keep my feet out of my mouth, and I wouldn't be stuck eating so much humble pie.

A new hazard has sprung up with Isaac's current stage in life.  Not only am I always in danger of saying something that will come back to haunt me, but I've got him repeating everything I say.  This is a huge responsibility.  I don't want him going around saying things like, "Well, that girl has a huge booty," and "So-and-so has the world's least-convincing comb-over."  So I find myself saying things like, "Doing well in school is the best fun ever!" and "Mowing the lawn is not only exciting, but a fun, healthy form of exercise."  It's a bit of a challenge squeezing these topics in while watching Dancing With the Stars, but I'm nothing if not a talented conversationalist.

By the way, I've been trying to ease off on the narcotic painkillers, which is no fun at all. (This is another thought I have to try not to voice in Isaac's presence so he doesn't go to school and tell his teachers that "narcotics are fun!")  Yesterday when I saw the doctor for my surgery follow-up, he said that my surgery is a very painful one, and I should go ahead and stay on the painkillers as long as I needed to, and he gave me a refill.  Music to my ears, let me tell you.  So I will continue to be somewhat narcotic-fueled in my blog posts for a bit longer.  Hopefully I won't have any more awful dreams like the one I posted about last week.

Here's a link to a very, very funny website about retro Weight Watcher's recipes.  This is not a website for kids or people who are offended by bad language, so please, don't even go there if you fit into these categories.  I would be sad if I messed up your day like that.  If you, like me, have been so ruined by modern society that you sometimes don't notice bad language, then this is a fun place to go, but make sure that Isaac isn't standing behind you reading over your shoulder because he will totally repeat anything he sees.