The Family Blood Is Black

(When I was in high school, I was pretty goth. Growing up I haven’t changed much, other than altering it to what I jokingly call “Casual Vampire Goth Mom,” now that I have a daughter who is currently six and a half. I just have a darker wardrobe with bold lipsticks. One day on Facebook I see one of those text pictures saying, “My daughter is the sweetest, most beautiful, evil, psychotic creature you will ever know,” and I share it with a story from this week.)

Daughter: “Remember when you used to take me to play funerals?”

Me: “Play funerals?”

Daughter: “Yeah, play funerals!”

Me: “Um… What did we do there?”

Daughter: “Ugh, play funerals! I was like three, there were moms, and lots of kids, and toys, and we would play while you talked to each other.”

Me: “You mean play group?!”

Daughter: *starts laughing* “Oh, yeah. Play group.”

(My mother comments on the post.)

Mother: “Where have you been taking my granddaughter and telling her it’s fun?!”

Me: “You mean you never took me to play funerals when I was little? What kind of childhood did I have?”

Mother: “You used to have play funerals with your cousins; I wanted nothing to do with that.”

Me: “Oh, my God! I forgot about that! I’ve been goth since I was a wee baby, and now my own wee baby has it in her blood!”