dailydiatribes

Occasionally I am forcefully reminded that I am not living the life of a sitcom family.  Such was the case last week when I had a lovely conversation with my 11 year old daughter.  I was sitting at the computer goofing around, much as I am now, when she wandered into the kitchen.

She started rummaging through the pantry and said "Hey Mom, I need to tell you something."

"Hmmm," I murmured, intent on forming all the three letter words I could think of on Word Whomp.

"I just want you to know that I will never want to kill you or daddy," she said matter of factly.

My fingers slipped on the keyboard and my gopher moaned in despair as I turned to look at her.  She now had my full, undivided attention.  I have no recollection of Donna Reed or June Cleaver fielding these sorts of questions.  Certainly, Jan never said anything like this to Carol Brady, even in her darkest moments of teenage angst. 

"You what????" I said, perhaps a bit shrilly, because she looked at me kind of funny.

"I just want you to know I will never want to murder you or daddy," she said.  Again with the killing; where was this coming from, Lifetime???

"Abby, did something happen at school?" I asked, thinking maybe one of her classmates had confided a homicidal desire to her.

"No," she said, getting a bit annoyed.  "But I just wanted you to know that I'll never kill you."

I was starting to get worried, considering installing a bolt on the outside of her door so we could lock her in at night. 

"But Abby, why are you telling me this?  Did you see something on TV?  Is there something you need to talk about?"  I was trying to be calm and casual, as they can sense fear.

"No, Mom, would you stop it??  You're so annoying," she said petulantly.  "I'm just never gonna kill you, ok??"

The scariest part of this is I am not making it up; but on the plus side, I guess I am reassured that I can sleep with no fear of waking up to my daughter hovering over me with a butcher knife, preparing to plunge it into me.

She got her snack and walked back into the family room to continue her Disney Channel marathon and I was left staring at the computer screen in silence, trying to comprehend the discussion that had just taken place.  Did I need to worry about her pulling a Lizzie Borden?  "Abby Brunner took an axe, gave her mother 40 whacks....then she stopped to get a snack and watch Hannah Montanna....and when she saw what she had done...."  Did I need to lock up all the axes and machetes and blunderbusses?  Was I supposed to be reassured by the conversation? 

I decided to just let it go and chalk it up to the strange intricacies of a child's mind.  But if Tim and I turn up dead, check her bedroom for the murder weapon.  If you can find it under the mountains of dirty clothing!