The
fourth brother in the grandkid gang was snotty, crying, dirty, and done. I
pointed at it and told my daughter, “Take that one home, wash it, pat it, and
put it to bed.”
The
third brother in the gang felt that I had dissed his littlest brother. He began to mutter. His face closed
like a fist.
I
tried to interpret his three-year old muttering.
Nothing.
“Heather,”
I said to my daughter, “what’s he saying?”
She
listened for a while.
With
more optimism and hope than knowledge she reported, “He’s saying, ‘I’ll love
you forever.’”
Zac’s
face now resembled angry granite.
“Heather,
look at his face. I don’t think he’s saying, ‘I’ll love you forever.’”
She
sighed and then reported, “He’s saying, ‘I’ll scratch you all over.’”
Ah
ha! That was more like it.
This
incident typifies what I like to call the Wishful Thinking Syndrome. It was
wishful thinking that Zac was waving a fond goodbye to his old YaYa with
charming declarations of undying devotion.
There’s
a lot of Wishful Thinking Syndrome going around I’ve noticed.
It’s
wishful thinking that professors who are busy trying to sell their books will
be available to help you sell yours.
It’s
wishful thinking that low self esteem, broken hearts, damaged egos, and
sociopathic behavior can be fixed with quick cash.
It’s
wishful thinking that food without butter, salt, fat, and sugar is going to be
as good as food with butter, salt, fat, and sugar.
It’s
wishful thinking that bread and circuses are going to work forever. (See
history of the Roman Empire)
It’s
wishful thinking to believe that hot flashes will make you grow taller after
age fifty or before age fifty.
It’s
wishful . . . well, you get the picture.
Wishful
thinking is a direct result of the modern notions that human beings deserve
trophies for breathing, that buying a Wraptastic will change your life, and
that everything billed as ‘based on a true story’ is true.
Get
real. The three-year old kid is not telling you he’s going to love you
forever—this time. This time he’s threatening to claw you with grubby
fingernails. Sigh. It happens.
The
news isn’t all bad, however.
It
is my hopeful wishful belief that for every busted thought-wish, there are
those rare and dazzling moments when our wishful thoughts actually reflect
reality and the kid is saying that he’s going to love you forever and the
purchase of a Wraptastic does, in fact, change your life. But those moments are
both rare and dazzling, which makes reality way better than wishful
thinking—sort of like having a unicorn to ride to the free puppy store.
Linda
(Scratch Resistant) Zern
