They Don't Stay Little Long
I'm sure you've heard that saying before. Enjoy them now, they
don't stay little long. My #1 son was never little. He was born an
adult. In his mind, he has never been a child. Oh, he gladly takes
the coddling and gifts and lack of responsibilities. But he expects
the privileges of an adult. Go figure!
My child is driving me crazy. He just turned 11 in December. What
am I going to do when he hits 13? I will have to get him his own
apartment. He is ready for it now, but I think there are probably
laws against that sort of thing. Here are some of his idiosyncracies
that I find annoying.
He adjusts the passenger seat of the SUV to suit his own liking.
Which means he is ready to launch into space, because he leans
the seat back, and tilts the bottom part so that he looks like he
is lying back in the space shuttle.
He plugs headphones into the car radio while I am listening to
my oldies music CDs. Then he says, "You know, I am not really
listening to the radio. I pretend I am, but I can hear everything
you say about me."
He leaves his clothes on the bathroom floor. MY bathroom floor.
You see, our bathroom has the big triangle tub, and a big shower.
He leaves a pile of jeans, T-shirt, shirt, socks, and underwear on
the floor every night. Every night I tell him to pick it up. Every
morning I catch my toe on a pair of jeans and trip. Something is
not working. That would be HIM.
He leaves trash wherever he sets it down. Tissues from snorting
his Nasonex on the floor. Breakfast plate (paper, of course...
we're hillbillies) on the TV table. Empty soda can on the cutting
block. Oh, except for the snacks he sneaks from the pantry.
He is careful to hide those wrappers so that a team of forensic
scientists couldn't find them.
He outgrows his clothing every month. It seems. He is 11. He is
wearing boys' size 16 jeans. His 14s were high-waters. They
came to the middle of his shins. At first, I thought he was just
getting poochy in the belly, and tried a pair of 14 husky. No
deal. He needed a belt, and they were still too short. In fact,
the 16s are above his ankles. You'd think the kid was a young
Paul Bunyan.
He trades his lunch. Which is one thing if it is a peanut butter
and jelly sandwich, which it is not. No. He must have Wal*Mart
chicken tenders. Then I found out that they are good trading
material. He got 4 rolls for a chicken tender. What...is he carb-
loading for a marathon? If he's trading it, I'll send something
cheaper in his lunch.
For a child with such a high IQ, the boy lacks common sense.
Last week we were parked at Sonic (which is another issue
entirely, since their drive-thru speaker has been broken, and
we have to pull into a bay to get my Cherry Diet Coke) and
he got stuck. By that, I mean he had taken off his seatbelt,
crouched down in the leg area, and couldn't get up. His butt
was stuck under the glove compartment. He laughed. I thought
he was joking. But nooooo...he had to open the door to get
up. That is pitiful.
He has this stuffed bunny that I got him last Easter. It usually
lies on the back of the basement couch, my son's chosen bed.
He doesn't notice the bunny unless his little brother wants to
play with it, at which time he shouts, "NO! IT'S MIIIIIINE!"
A couple nights ago, he tossed me the bunny and said, "Here,
hold Bunny." I was goofing around, and set Bunny on the
arm of my chair. "Do you like me, Bunny?" I made its head
nod 'yes'. "Do like #1 son, Bunny?" I made its head shake
'no'. My boy was amazed. "HOW did you DO that?" Duh!
I had a finger on the back of its neck and pushed. He said,
"I know how you made it say yes, but I can't figure out how
you made it say no." Oh, Sweet Mary Made of Gummis,
what is the matter with that boy young 'un?
Perhaps he needs to grow his emotions into his brain. He has
always been a bit advanced. He thinks of himself as an adult.
When he was 4, we were driving home and he asked where
his dad was. I told him Dad had gone to sign some papers
for the land we were buying for him and his brother. He
started to cry. "What's wrong?" Through his snuffling, my
boy wailed, "But I can't even drive or cook yet!" He thought
that when we bought the land, he was moving to it, that he
was out on his own.
Now that I think of it, we still have that land...
don't stay little long. My #1 son was never little. He was born an
adult. In his mind, he has never been a child. Oh, he gladly takes
the coddling and gifts and lack of responsibilities. But he expects
the privileges of an adult. Go figure!
My child is driving me crazy. He just turned 11 in December. What
am I going to do when he hits 13? I will have to get him his own
apartment. He is ready for it now, but I think there are probably
laws against that sort of thing. Here are some of his idiosyncracies
that I find annoying.
He adjusts the passenger seat of the SUV to suit his own liking.
Which means he is ready to launch into space, because he leans
the seat back, and tilts the bottom part so that he looks like he
is lying back in the space shuttle.
He plugs headphones into the car radio while I am listening to
my oldies music CDs. Then he says, "You know, I am not really
listening to the radio. I pretend I am, but I can hear everything
you say about me."
He leaves his clothes on the bathroom floor. MY bathroom floor.
You see, our bathroom has the big triangle tub, and a big shower.
He leaves a pile of jeans, T-shirt, shirt, socks, and underwear on
the floor every night. Every night I tell him to pick it up. Every
morning I catch my toe on a pair of jeans and trip. Something is
not working. That would be HIM.
He leaves trash wherever he sets it down. Tissues from snorting
his Nasonex on the floor. Breakfast plate (paper, of course...
we're hillbillies) on the TV table. Empty soda can on the cutting
block. Oh, except for the snacks he sneaks from the pantry.
He is careful to hide those wrappers so that a team of forensic
scientists couldn't find them.
He outgrows his clothing every month. It seems. He is 11. He is
wearing boys' size 16 jeans. His 14s were high-waters. They
came to the middle of his shins. At first, I thought he was just
getting poochy in the belly, and tried a pair of 14 husky. No
deal. He needed a belt, and they were still too short. In fact,
the 16s are above his ankles. You'd think the kid was a young
Paul Bunyan.
He trades his lunch. Which is one thing if it is a peanut butter
and jelly sandwich, which it is not. No. He must have Wal*Mart
chicken tenders. Then I found out that they are good trading
material. He got 4 rolls for a chicken tender. What...is he carb-
loading for a marathon? If he's trading it, I'll send something
cheaper in his lunch.
For a child with such a high IQ, the boy lacks common sense.
Last week we were parked at Sonic (which is another issue
entirely, since their drive-thru speaker has been broken, and
we have to pull into a bay to get my Cherry Diet Coke) and
he got stuck. By that, I mean he had taken off his seatbelt,
crouched down in the leg area, and couldn't get up. His butt
was stuck under the glove compartment. He laughed. I thought
he was joking. But nooooo...he had to open the door to get
up. That is pitiful.
He has this stuffed bunny that I got him last Easter. It usually
lies on the back of the basement couch, my son's chosen bed.
He doesn't notice the bunny unless his little brother wants to
play with it, at which time he shouts, "NO! IT'S MIIIIIINE!"
A couple nights ago, he tossed me the bunny and said, "Here,
hold Bunny." I was goofing around, and set Bunny on the
arm of my chair. "Do you like me, Bunny?" I made its head
nod 'yes'. "Do like #1 son, Bunny?" I made its head shake
'no'. My boy was amazed. "HOW did you DO that?" Duh!
I had a finger on the back of its neck and pushed. He said,
"I know how you made it say yes, but I can't figure out how
you made it say no." Oh, Sweet Mary Made of Gummis,
what is the matter with that boy young 'un?
Perhaps he needs to grow his emotions into his brain. He has
always been a bit advanced. He thinks of himself as an adult.
When he was 4, we were driving home and he asked where
his dad was. I told him Dad had gone to sign some papers
for the land we were buying for him and his brother. He
started to cry. "What's wrong?" Through his snuffling, my
boy wailed, "But I can't even drive or cook yet!" He thought
that when we bought the land, he was moving to it, that he
was out on his own.
Now that I think of it, we still have that land...
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:20 PM
5 Comments:
What I want to know is why was your boy crouched down in the leg area in the car when you went to the Sonic? Was he hiding because he didn't want to be seen at the Sonic? If that's the case, maybe you should have left him stuck, or made sure he didn't get his Cherry Limeade (or whatever)...there's no reason to be embarrased to be seen at the Sonic. ;)
http://www.danno.org/blogs
... parked at Sonic (which is another issue entirely, since their drive-thru speaker has been broken ... pull into a bay to get my Cherry Diet Coke ...)
Do you suspect insurgent activity from Beclakia???
Chick,
Good question! He's a restless little booger. I guess he tired of sitting in space shuttle launch position. He was antsy. He loves Sonic, so he was not in hiding.
Lantern,
That's IT! Why didn't I think of that? I knew there had to be an explanation. I'm off to blog about it. Thanks for the inspiration.
He's not getting ready for a space shuttle mission - he's practicing to be a gangsta.
Diva,
He'd doggone better be practicing for a space shuttle mission, because if I catch him practicing to be a gangsta, THAT BOY IS GONNA LAUNCH!
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