Move Over Ms. O'Hare

For the last several weeks, I have thought about how quiet things have been around my house.  Some of that could be contributed to Mononucleosis, but overall there has not been any new "stunts".  It's summer, and we are all just a little more relaxed.  Bedtimes are not so strict; diet has been lax (for Carter, not me! I refuse to die FAT!!); swimming in the evenings; you know, the stuff memories are made of.  I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I would begin to experience the "Brady Bunch" lifestyle that we all fantasize about.  And like a bolt of lightening, I have been jolted back into reality!


Like I said, Mono hit our house.  Everything was extremely laissez faire: no interruptions, no interference, just relaxation for the ill and focus on getting better.  Carter had a rough time with a sore throat, and was subsequently cranky, but only for about a week.  Lincoln Hill Drive was quiet. Then, in a whirlwind that a tornado has nothing on, I found myself wondering what the hell happened.  All of a sudden, I was having adult conversations with Carter that he would understand and respond appropriately....and INAPPROPRIATELY!


I was under a false assumption that girls were the dramatic ones.  Drama Queens, right?  Well, I am here to tell you there is a Ying for that Yang!!  The sass-mouth that took over my son's oral cavity is one of a caliber that could hang with the big boys (or girls, so I previously thought).  The huffing and puffing, "Oh My Gosh"s, and my personal favorite "Well, Shoot!" overtook my son's vocabulary.  I couldn't ask anything of him without some level of interjection. Although they were not disrespectful, they were really becoming annoying. I really wondered where many of these sayings came from because they are not anything from our house/family.  If it were worse (my personal favorite since the age of 3 has been shit), then I might hang my head in shame, but these were just at a Scarlet O'Hare level; thankfully, no Richard Prior! I tried to overlook most of it, but we all have our breaking points.  As I began to crack, Carter and I came head to head one night with full sarcasm:


     "Why do you talk like you are 30?" - me
     "Why do Y-O-U talk like you're 30? - Carter
     "Because I AM 30!" - me
     "Well, I'm 3!" - Carter


Of course I laughed, what else was I supposed to do? Guess what.....that was NOT the right way to handle a child's dramatics.  So, this past weekend, while enjoying a visit at his Mimi's, he decided to step it up a notch.  You know, test the ground with someone else.  He arrived in Monroe, LA with his latest:


"You're getting on my last nerve!"


And to that I say, "Touché, my son. Touché!"