Parenting: Fail

Upon discovering I was pregnant six years ago in a Mexican desert, surrounded by martinis, dirty sand and well-loved novels, Andre and I decided we would be good parents. No processed foods would cross the lips of our child (homemade bread daily), he would learn to maintain a minimal carbon footprint, he would spend time in the ocean and at operas, we would raise him in a foreign country for a year. Most importantly, no tv. Ever.


This morning, the six-year-old went upstairs by himself, ate an apple and two Western Family granola bars, double wrapped in plastic,  and played Star Wars, The Clone Wars Wii for an hour while we slept. 


He was safe. The dogs were with him (waiting for granola droppings). He was warm. Naked, sure, but wrapped in an afghan. He was not hungry. And the sugar probably helped to warm him. Most importantly, his vocabulary increased, describing to me in vivid detail the "origin" of General Grievous's army, the difference between the "Republic and the Separatists", and why he would not "clone the Zillo Beast."


We are the best parents ever. 


P.S. We only hire babysitters willing to play hide and seek in the bushes outside AND help the kid bump up a couple of levels on Star Wars (Ms. Pac Man did not prepare me for this level of technology).