Tropical Storms and Stove Tops

Where I am, there's this thing going on that we call a Tropical Storm. Basically, it's a wanna-be hurricane. Beryl  (because these wanna-be hurricanes get names, too) has been raging since yesterday evening. As we are stuck inside, I've been pondering about blog things all day. Not that we're far into the day; it's barely even noon. Oh, me of little patience.

As I said, we're stuck inside. My mom asked me to prepare beignets. Just prepare them. I won't fry them. But anyways, I agreed. My mom began making pancakes and sausage and eggs. I finished my prep. work, and sat down to surf the net or play Plants vs. Zombies. I then heard the following words from my mom:

"Don't touch the stove. I don't want you to get burned."

I don't know which of my four siblings she was addressing, though I'm pretty sure it was the four year old, Cricket. Because I was already in my "let's find a metaphor in doing the laundry" state of mind, immediately I picked up on this.

Before I continue, I should warn you. I love metaphors, and mixed with my unusual mind, can find a metaphor for something out of anything. I can make metaphors out of things like discarded pencil shavings like God made man out of dust.

So, here I was sitting at my desk, I heard that, and "BANG". It was a "my life flashed before my eyes" kind of moment. I saw all the times I disobeyed my parents--and gotten hurt. See where this is going?

I'm one of those outrageously lucky people that has incredible parents and everything else. I've never been one to disobey my parents about something petty, though. "Don't touch the stove!" Sure! "Don't take money out of my purse!" 'Course not. "Stay away from under the bed!" Yes, mother. It's the big things where I used to think "gosh, they don't know what they're talking about".

"Don't tell the little brother to pull his pants down in the middle of the road!" Let's go! What could go wrong? "Don't get too clingy with the boy you like, especially if he has a girlfriend!" But what if he likes me back? What if he's my prince charming? Love finds a way! "Find friends who respect you!" I can't, so I'll settle for the ones who take advantage of me. "Always remember that I love you!" Really? Why didn't you let me go out with my friends? How come I can't go to this and this and this?

Because I'm outrageously lucky, I pretty much figured out that my mom and dad know a heck of a lot more than I do by the time I was fifteen. It only took a broken heart, lots of groundings, several of "the talks", and the betrayals of those "real friends" for me to figure it out. And here I am! Awesome parental relationships, good friends, good relationship with God, and the humble (sort of) understanding that I am still a girl with braces.

Sure, I still disagree with some things, but I realize that they know better, and can accept their decisions. Like my four year old brother trying to touch the stove, they just don't want me to get hurt. They love me.

Bottom line is this: listen to your parents. They're much taller than we are and can see that the stove is on.