At least he hasn’t gotten anything pierced

Okay, I know kids grow up fast these days, but my three year old is acting like a teenager.

No, he hasn’t taken to calling me ‘Mother’ in a tone of voice that says he means ‘bitch’. No, he doesn’t eat enough food in a day to feed a small country. No, he doesn’t listen to bad music at high volume. No, he doesn’t steal the neighbors’ cars and go for joy rides.

Which? Let me stop right here and pray for myself in 10 years time.

No, what he does is; he goes into his room, closes the door, and gets absolutely quiet. Almost as quiet as a 16 year old girl who is redoing her makeup and talking to a boy at the same time.

Seriously, y’all? It’s weird. I feel compelled to go look and make sure he isn’t cooking meth in there. But, I have to trust him. He promised me that his meth cooking days are over, after the explosion and all.

Here’s where I admit that it’s kind of quiet and lovely when he’s in his room with the door closed, playing quietly. He’s a good boy, but it’s too hot most days for him to go outside and play, so mostly he works his energy out by running back and forth through the house with the dog chasing him, while he shouts, ‘Stop the Music!’, over and over. Really. The kid needs a new catchphrase.

Oh, and my kid is now officially mutlti-lingual! Ever since he started watching Dora the Explorer , he asks us what different words are in Spanish. Between us (mostly Pookie) we’ve been able to provide the answers. So he goes up to his Dad the other night and asks him how to say ‘dog’ in Spanish. Pookie tells him that it’s ‘perro’. Little man says ‘Nooo, it’s not! It’s dogo.’

He’s decided that as long as you put an ‘a’ or an ‘o’ at the end of a word, it’s Spanish! Which, since it’s no longer English, makes it a whole ‘nother language, which technically makes him multi-lingual. Hah! My kid is a genius!


Alert: I have something I need to share with the girls. No boys allowed past this point. Especially anyone I’m related to, or Pat K., or Chris from Rudecactus (whom you should totally go visit, if only for his excellent Monday morning Haikus, which always give me the first (and usually only) smiles of the workday.)

Seriously, all boys stop here. I’m telling you this for your own good. Remember Pandora and her box*? Well, it’s like that.

Girls, I have found my first grey hair that’s not on my head, if you get my meaning. Let me just say: Nooooooooooooo. I can take all the other not so subtle signs of aging, but this? This is Not Right. This is, in fact, Wrong. I object. Strongly.

Pray for me Sisters.

* Pandora’s Box. Heh heh, I said box!


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