Still, I have no regrets.

I'm not a bad person. There are things I've done, choices I've made, and even aspects of my personality that I'm not particularly proud of...but all in all, I think I'm a pretty decent human being.

Eliot and I were outside in our backyard yesterday, and he was playing in his sandbox. There were hornets buzzing around the area where he was playing, so I grabbed a flyswatter and killed one of them when it chanced to land on the patio. Fifteen minutes or so later, Eliot asked me, seemingly at random, "Are you good or bad, Mommy?"

"Uh? Well? I'm pretty good, I think," I replied, modestly, I thought.

"Nope," he said, without even pausing in the construction of his sand road, "You're bad."

"What makes you think Mommy is bad?" I asked.

He points out, unhesitatingly, "You were bad to that stinger bug."

How can I defend myself against that accusation? Were the stinger bug alive to comment, he'd probably tend to agree with Eliot. And from his perspective (the stinger bug's, not Eliot's), I guess I'm pretty bad...

After all:

1) My policy on stinger bugs is swat first, ask questions later. I'm not going to wait and see whether or not they'll sting my kid. And I don't shoot for the kneecaps. I aim to kill.

2) I don't like dogs. Not even puppies. Nothing you can do or say is going to make me like them, so please don't even try. I realize they're cute and all...I just don't care.

3) One time in college, I was shopping in Big Lots and opened a box of cookies and started eating them, then decided I didn't want them after all, so I just put them back on the shelf.

4) I've smoked pot before, and unlike former President Clinton, I inhaled. (Because the way I understood it, that was kind of the point.)

5) My therapist says I need to stop mothering people (with the exception of Mog, of course). I didn't really take him seriously until this afternoon when a total stranger pulled her car to the side of the road to ask me directions and I felt the overwhelming urge to just hop into the passenger seat and guide her all the way to her destination.

6) On more than one occasion, I have eaten mass quantities of chocolate until I reached the point of vomiting. What can I say? I like chocolate.

7) Sometimes I pretend to like people that I don't really like. It's just easier.

8) My son calls my ex-husband's girlfriend "Heifer," and I don't bother to correct him. (Her name is Heather.)

9) I'm kind of hoping my son is gay. I hoped he would be left-handed, too, and he isn't, so shouldn't I get SOMETHING? Come on!

10) I feel very little guilt about being narcissistic. I feel guilt about almost everything else in my life, but not about that. So what if I indulge in near-constant navel-gazing? My belly button is FASCINATING, okay?! Don't try to pretend that it's not. :)

Does all of that make me bad? Nahhhhhh. I don't think so. Not one bit. So long as you don't ask the stinger bug. And he's not talking anyway.