It's really great when you find out that your kids spontaneously do shit that you used to do when you were their age. Actually, it's pretty depressing... for them. But for me, it's great.
Case in point, the other night, I was rapping with Mr. Z before he went to sleep and he pointed out this little face that he liked to look at on his ceiling. Now, we have these 80s, whipped-cream-style ceilings, with all this swirly, prickly plaster shit sticking out from them.
It's ugly as shit and if you were to accidentally brush a part of your body across it, you'd look as though you'd have been mauled by a puma. But, if you're a seven-year-old falling asleep, it's great for staring at and finding faces.
So, I lie back on the pillow and Mr. Z points out the face -- he says it reminds him of "Roo" from the Winnie-the-Pooh stories:
Well, I thought it was fucking hilarious because it actually did look like Roo. A lot. He said he liked to look at it as he was falling asleep because it was "cute" and it made him feel happy. Which is so fucking insane because I totally did the same exact shit when I was his age. I'd look for faces in the ceiling, in the knots on the 70s paneling in my room, in the carpet, in the scabs on my... knees. How fucked up is that?!
I mean, it's not like I taught that shit to him -- it was encoded somewhere in my moronic dna and, through the miracle of science, he's now doing the same bizarre, self-soothing nighttime ritual that I did 34 years ago! Holy fuck, could I use a bong right about now.
It's incredible that he exhibits these strange little behaviors from my childhood, but when I actually think about it and start extrapolating a few years -- well, frankly, I get pretty freaked out. What other freakish/misguided/just-plain-wrong behaviors of mine are going to start popping up?! Is he going to lie awake in bed every night obsessing about death? (Too late.) Is he going to start burning ant hills and caterpillars with a magnifying glass all summer long? Is his fourth grade teacher going to say, during the parent/teacher conference, "Mr. Z thinks he's a very funny boy, and sometimes he is. And sometimes... he isn't." Is he going to burst into tears on the playground every time someone steals his hat? Is he going to start smoking bowls in the back of the Schwinn shop in town with Jim Fitzgerald when he's 13? Is he going to be the head of "Students Against Drunk Driving" and plan a non-alcoholic party and then blow off said party, get wasted, pass out, and have his friends drop him off at home unconscious, ring the doorbell and drive away?! Is he going to going to become so isolated and friendless as an adult that he is forced to sit in his basement, late at night, vomiting out meaningless prattle into a blog, hoping that maybe someone, somewhere might read it and comment on it, and that will be the closest thing he'll have had to an actual friend in years?!?! [Wait... was that last part out loud?]
Shit, I hope the old lady's genes kick in soon, or the dude is fucked.