February 18, 2005

Admittedly My Fault...

The new working title is MAGGOTS IN HATS. Thanks, Deb.

I HAVE SENTIENT MOLD plotting world domination in my toilets because I am reading so much and writing when I am not reading, and working out when I am not reading and writing because the bronchitis KICKED MY BUTT and I need to be strong and healthy before I go on the road again and and and. I feel like a very EARNEST hamster in a wheel, a SQUEEKY wheel that goes WREE WREE WREE, and I am always DOING but never get anything DONE. But at least wheel-running is fun and I am a hamster so how bright can I be? Maybe I don't KNOW I am not getting anywhere.

MEANWHILE, I am troubled by GENETICS. Specifically, my OWN, because my ELDEST child has been thoroughly poisoned by my pernicious genes. It is a truism around here that if I leave the house with three inanimate objects in my care, I will come home with two, and one of them will be broken. BUT HE IS WORSE THAN ME. He will come home with one, and it will be attached by a string of its guts to his shoe and he will be dragging it along with no idea it is there. Of course, he IS only seven. BUT IT MAKES ME CRAZY! CRAZY I SAY!

This morning I put all his birthday party invitations in his folder.
Me: Go put this folder in your backpack.
Him: *takes folder* Last night I found the real tomb of Tal Rasha! But there were all these fakes first and it took me, Mom, five days, Mom, to find it. But then---
Me: Sam. Stop. Look at me. GO, right now. Put that folder in YOUR BACKPACK.
Him: What folder?
Me; THE ONE YOU ARE HOLDING.
Him: *Takes three steps, stops, stuff folder under arm and drops to his knees* MOM! LOOK! IT IS MY BLUE EYES WHITE DRAGON! Oh Man! I thought I loaned that card to Joe and I---
Me: SAM! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! PUT! THAT! FOLDER! IN! YOUR! BACKPACK!
Him: *acting like I am a MORON* Geez, you don't have to YELL. I WAS already. *marches off dejectedly*
Me: *calling after him* GO PUT IT DIRECTLY IN THE BACK PACK. RIGHT THIS SECOND!
Him: *mutters things under his breath, probably about my parentage.*
Me: ARE YOU PUTTING IT???
Him: *calling back to me* I am PUTTING IT.

Guess what?
I JUST FOUND THE FOLDER UNDER A CHAIR IN THE BREAKFAST NOOK.
Someone please explain that to me.
Oh, right. He's my kid.

So I dashed down to the bus stop IN MY SOCKS and the bus was there ALREADY so I GRABBED his scruff as he was boarding and put the folder into his backpack myself while giving him the MONSTROUS pointy eye. Then I walked home with FROZEN feet.

Me: WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH THAT KID???
Scott: You know what we are going to. We will keep nudging him and helping him and reminding him and teaching him and eventually he will grow up and marry someone and it will be HER problem.

HA! In other words, I need to get over it because that kid is NOT going to change.
Lord knows I haven't.

Posted by joshilyn at February 18, 2005 8:28 AM
Comments

Yes, Mrs. Gilmore.

Posted by: Waylon at February 18, 2005 8:38 AM

ROFL So which one of the kids is going to inherit Scott's incredible wit? *still laughing*

Posted by: David at February 18, 2005 1:33 PM

Good thing he's so darn cute!

Posted by: Amy at February 18, 2005 3:01 PM

I think Scott MAY have been trying to tell you something else but you were too busy with your dragon card to notice. ;)

Posted by: Mir at February 18, 2005 6:57 PM

LOL I have had that exact same thing happen with the preschooler. I have found that I have to look into her eyes when I tell her something, or she simply won't hear it. The husband calls it the "Look! There's something else!" syndrome.

Posted by: Jensgalore at February 18, 2005 10:04 PM