Why eat when you can text?
(Somewhere in here, L has “written” LOL.)
L had a buddy hang out for a few days during his spring break. I had to leave early and drove his buddy home from our Spring Break casa. Hugs were exchanged by all.
L hugged his buddy and said, “I love you.”
Buddy: Hmmm… mmmkay.
L: “I, uh, love you like a brother. You know, I like/love you.”
L: “Or, you know, I think you’re great and thank you for coming.”
Buddy: Me, too.
Some ramblings from last night:
L: “I think L and I broke up. I think we’re better as friends.”
M: “You broke up? Broke up from what? What do you mean?”
L: “Well, she was crushing pretty hard on me and I really like her, but in the end, I think we’ll be friends.”
L: “So now, I’m thinking about C only I think she likes V and I’m not sure I’ll get anywhere with that.”
M: “Where is ‘anywhere?'”
L: “You know, when you like someone. LIKE like.”
M: “I think you and dad are going to have that talk sooner rather than later.”
L: “Oh, gross. Do we have to?”
Had a flashback this morning.
The Setting: Oscar broadcast, 2005 (I think).
The Presenter: Salma Hayek. I believe L is on the verge of walking, is still sporting diapers, and is quite mobile.
He crawls/scootches/drags himself to the television set, hoists himself up and plants a giant, wet, all-in kiss on Miss Hayek while she’s trilling about “Best….”
Did my unsullied, innocent cherub just French Salma Hayek?
Why, yes. Yes he did. (Good taste.)
Gads, while I love having L’s buddies over (and vice versa), I practically break into hives when I hear the term, “play date.” Can everyone come up with something else and we’ll universally change it? Just saying.
Yesterday as I was chopping some veggies for dinner, I nicked my finger and let out an F-bomb.
L: “Mom, I think it would be more appropriate for you to stop using that sort of language. If you’re telling me not to use it, I think you should stop using it. You’re sending a confusing message.”
L: “Do you think you can stop using that sort of language? Because you’re sort of telling me it’s okay. And I know it’s not.”
M: (DREAM SEQUENCE: You betcha, I will not say s–t, f–k, a–h–e, d-bag, d–k wad, h–l to the no. I will abstain from such language.)
M: “Got it. No more potty mouth.”
L: “Great. What’s for dinner?”
For a seriously articulate kid, one who knows the definitions and/or history of:
….and of course, Zombie
It’s so utterly heartbreaking to have him reach the end of his rope, end of the day, still not able to say “I’m tired” and describe a series of mishaps as:
“I’m so sad. I had a great day. And now I’m really struggling with the last part of my day.”
And he bursts into tears.
These are the moments when I’d give anything, everything to trade places. To have him know that this is a moment that will pass, that there will be many moments like this one.
As if I would have heard any of that when I was seven and just having a rough couple of hours.