“Mom, You’re Boring.”

 

Today my five year old looked at me with total confidence, the kind reserved for world leaders and small children of course and announced, “Mom, you’re boring.”

Just like that. No hesitation. No remorse. I hadn’t even finished my coffee.

At first, I thought I misheard. Surely he said morning, not boring. But no! he repeated it, louder as if conducting a scientific experiment to measure the impact of emotional damage before 9 a.m.

I stood there, blinking, spoon in hand, feeling personally attacked by a person who still can’t tie his own shoes. Me? Boring? WHAT? I’m the woman who once hosted a living-room safari with paper towel binoculars. The same person who invented Pancake Animals such a culinary disaster that still deserves an award.

But apparently, I have fallen from grace. My crime? Refusing to make dinosaur noises before finishing my toast.

“Mom, you’re supposed to ROAR,” he explained, clearly disappointed in my lack of commitment to the role of T-Rex Number 2.

I tried, I really did!!! I let out what I thought was a respectable dinosaur sound like a deep, gravelly growl that came from somewhere near my soul. He stared at me totally unimpressed. “That’s not a dinosaur. That’s… weird.”

Five minutes later, I was being lectured on the correct emotional range of a prehistoric carnivore by someone still learning to count to twenty.

At this point, I realized parenthood is basically performance art with terrible reviews. You give your best but your audience will still yawn, boo or request snacks in the middle of your monologue.

I tried to defend myself “You used to think I was fun.” He shrugged. “That was when you were younger.”

Younger?!? I’m not sure if he meant last week or before breakfast but either way, I suddenly felt like I needed eye cream and a vacation.

Later, while he built a Lego city the size of a small nation, I watched him and thought to myself that maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been running too much on autopilot lately. Always rushing to clean, plan, manage. Maybe I have gotten a bit too serious.

Because to a five year old, fun isn’t in the schedule. It’s in the chaos, the pillow fights, the mud pies, the dancing while brushing your teeth. Somewhere between adult responsibilities and laundry loads, I may have misplaced my inner dinosaur.

So tonight, I made a secret promise: tomorrow, I’m coming back with a roar. A real one. The kind that shakes cereal bowls and makes him laugh until he forgets to breathe.

Because maybe he’s not insulting me. Maybe he’s reminding me that “boring” is just what happens when we forget that joy is noisy, silly and slightly ridiculous.

And honestly? If being boring is my current phase, then I’m ready for my comeback tour. Featuring: Mom the Magnificent, T-Rex Edition :)

---

Reflection for You

Maybe “boring” is just what children call peace.
Maybe it’s their way of reminding us that wonder still lives in the smallest things. A silly noise, a messy game, a moment of unfiltered joy.

So, if one day you get promoted to “boring” too, take it as your cue to roar a little louder, laugh a little harder and surprise life before it calls you predictable.

That's me here, the brown T-Rex

Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• The Space Between Then and Now
• Chapter I — Birth of Strength
• Sehnsucht
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?