Over breakfast one morning, my three-year-old, deep in thought, looks me in the eye and declares, “Mom, I love you better than boogers.” That, for me, summed up what it's like to be the mother of little boys.
Update October 2015
We've been living overseas since about the time this blog petered out. There are lots of funny Mo-and-Curly-abroad stories to share -- I'm exploring the best way to do that.
Thanks for tuning in!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Yesterday we went out for breakfast. Well, my three-year-old is a talker. But that’s not surprising. My childhood nickname was “Motor Mouth,” and my husband often got in trouble in elementary school for talking too much – though neither of us is especially chatty as an adult.
So our waitress at breakfast, I think she was trying to pay us a compliment, says, “He talks really well for a little guy. What is he, two years old?”
“I’m three,” he deadpans.
It drives me nuts when people ask me questions about him instead of asking him directly – and I think it’s starting to bother him too.
The waitress laughs and looks at us, “Well he’s going to drive his teachers crazy.”
Without missing a beat, my kid tells her, “I think YOU’RE crazy.”
Uncomfortably she replies, “Well, yes, I guess sometimes I can be a little crazy.” And walks away.
Should we have punished him? It was a good comeback. And yes, while his comment was a little rude – I think hers was too, assuming that my kid is going to drive his teachers crazy. (OK, so maybe he will, but that’s besides the point.)