Ever since my kid’s been old enough to blink he’s had me in the palm of his hand. There was no one more fragile, delicate, beautiful than he. Even now, although far from being a baby, he’s still the most beautiful face I’ve beheld; in my humble opinion.
And because he knows his power over his parents, especially moi, it often leads to tres annoying situations where I wish I could spank that bottom cherry tomato red. And then immediately feel guilty for thinking it. Aargh!
Today’s interaction went like this. I was being stern because he’d decorated the inside of his school van with PURPLE CRAYON. Big. Long. Purple. Squiggles. Wiggles. All . Over. The. Inside. Makes my head hurt to think about it.
The driver was understandably miffed and conveyed his miffedness to me with clipped tones and showed me my offspring’s handiwork. The culprit in question bounded from the vehicle with joy and cheer for all mankind and said big, magnanimous goodbyes all around and regally went his way home.
Realizing after a few seconds of silence that his mother wasn’t pestering him with the usual rapidfire questions about school and what he’d eaten, the brat started an interrogation of his own. This is how our conversation went:
MLM: Why you not talking?
Me: I’m upset.
MLM: Why you upset? Wha happan? (not typos, the kid talks like that).
Me: You made a mess all over the van. That was very naughty. Poor School-Van Uncle will have to clean it all up. More work for him. That wasn’t nice at all.
MLM: I made pretty puhple snakes!! See…they go (makes undulating gestures with hands).
Me: You are ONLY supposed to use crayons on paper. NOT the FLOOR and not the VAN.
MLM: You angry? (kind of tentatively asked)
Me: Yes. I’m upset. You never listen to your mother!
MLM: Nooo…I LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER!! (protesting his innocence)
Me: (trying to cover up my laughter in snorts..) I mean you don’t listen to ME…I’m your MOTHER, Einstein!
MLM: You want a kiss? (puckers up)
Me: NO I DON’T! I don’t kiss naughty boys.
MLM: You want hug then?
Me: Just go bathe and get that purple color off your face and hands and think about why I’m angry and what you’ve done…(steam coming out of my ears)
And the gurgling laughter of a brat who jumped into the shower greets me while he happily sings, “London Bitch Is Falling Down”.
You. Just. Can’t. Win.