Jewish World Review March 5, 2004 / 12 Adar, 5764

Lori Borgman

Lori Borgman
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Consumer Reports

Sometimes wishes do come true, even for grown-ups | Things that don't seem very fun when you're a kid, have a way of looking inviting once you're an adult. Take being sent to your room.

For the past week, I've been hoping someone would send me to my room. I have rudely interrupted others when talking, rolled my eyes at two of my kids and taken phone calls smack in the middle of dinner. you'd think somebody would have gotten annoyed and suggested I go to my room for some "You better think about it" time.

But no. Not a single, "knock it off." Not one solitary, "You better watch yourself, missy," or a "that'll be enough out of you." Haven't these people learned anything from me?

I'd love to be sent to my room, not just for the things that are in there - a television, a telephone, a half dozen magazines, four books and reading glasses - but for the things that are not. There's no vacuum cleaner in my room. There's no computer, stove, refrigerator, washer, dryer or ironing board.

Best of all, there's no car in my room. That means I couldn't pick anybody up, drop anybody off, swing by the dry cleaner, stop off at the grocery or dash to the mall.

Being sent to your room is an event completely wasted on kids. It's something only mature adults can fully appreciate.

There's something else wasted on kids. Naps. Kids hate naps. What kid hasn't tried to fake out a parent? I used to count to 20, put a little spit in the corner of my eyes and come out of my room stretching my arms like Rip van Winkle. If there had been an Anti-Nap Defense League, I would have given my Barbie doll's last pair of stiletto heels to join.

Naps can be enjoyable when you're an adult, but by then you're too old to admit you take them.

Hands down, the most fantastic thing that happens to you as a kid, that rarely happens to you as an adult, has to be snow days. Seeing your school's name scroll across the bottom of the television, hearing the DJ announce it on the radio, is your birthday, the circus, Christmas and a little brown pony rolled into one.

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As an adult, you may stand around uncombed, unwashed and unhappy in your bathrobe waiting to see if maybe, just maybe, your company's name is going to crawl by on the television screen, but I can tell you now, it ain't gonna happen. Your kids may be delirious with excitement, doing back flips and bouncing off the walls, but not you. Nope. There's no justice. Hit the shower.

The most gentle delight of all, underappreciated by kids, is being tucked in at night. Having someone pull the covers up, chat with you, sing a song, kiss your cheek, turn out the lights and close the door, is beyond nice. When you can finally appreciate that as a luxury, you're so old that your bedtime routine consists of unloading the dishwasher, taking out the trash, folding a load of towels, paying a few bills, seeing that the front door is locked and that the cars are in the garage.

This is not to say that kids get all the breaks. Sometimes wishes do come true, even for grown-ups. Just last night, I faintly heard a voice say, "Mom, maybe you should go to your room." I had fallen asleep on the couch.

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JWR contributor Lori Borgman is the author of I Was a Better Mother Before I Had Kids and "Pass the Faith, Please" (Click HERE to purchase. Sales help fund JWR.). To comment, please click here. To visit her website click here.

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© 2001, Lori Borgman