It Means Love

My boys are both alike and different in so many ways.  But one way they are absolutely, positively alike is one particular way that they acknowledge me.  And I'm not a fan.  While on the surface it seems good.  They aren't being mean.  They aren't saying bad words.  They aren't even being defiant.  But every time they do it it gets my hackles up.

"Uh-huh."  Yes, I know it sounds benign, as they say it all the time in completely non-offending ways.  But there's that certain tone, that certain slowness to the utterance, that certain something that always, 100% means they're nicely telling me, "Yes, mom...you're so stupid."

But really, I should be celebrating this.  My boys are being kind to me.  They're taking great care to not actually call me "stupid".  I think they deserve to have a new value put on that "uh-huh" of theirs.  "Uh-huh" now officially means "Mom, I love you so much!!!"

And now they'll wonder why I respond with a big toothy grin and a celebratory clutch of my heart.

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Going out on a Limb

Gee, hormones and hunger make for some pretty fierce snarkiness. My little guy earned a walk home rather than a ride home for being, well, to put it in terms he uses, a "turd". So, when this happened, of course he calls me. I admit it, I'm more of a softy and he has me pegged. Well, I told him he should choose to enjoy his walk as I'm sure he earned it. Then I found out that his phone was probably dying and I felt nervous about him walking alone and being unreachable. Weird, really, because I wandered everywhere, all day long as a kiddo and was only reachable by gong...yes, gong...my mom would stand in the middle of the street and bang a gong to get us home. Very effective method, my fellow parents. Extremely audible AND totally embarrassing. Got me home quick. Anyway, back to my kid. So, I tried calling him to see where he was and no answer. The phone had died. I'm twitchy by nature, so I had to go looking. I drove through Zilker Park on Barton Springs and didn't see him anywhere. I turned around weaved myself through the park. Just as I was about to exit I saw a kid in the distance. Khaki shorts, over-sized red jacket, yellow and black jester hat, and a HUGE freakin' limb that must've been over 10 feet long. I pull up near him and he approached the car...beaming! I guess he chose to enjoy his walk as I'd recommended.

"Can I take it home?"

"No."

"Can't we let it stick out the windows?"

"No."

"Can we put it on top of the car?"

"The only way you're going to get to keep that stick is to carry it home. You choose."

He turned around and threw the stick to the ground, mumbling. I'm guessing something along the lines of, "You're a turd."

Yeah, well, all I have to say is that if it takes a turd to love a turd, I will happily be a turd.