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I’ve been filling out the insanely detailed liability/permission forms for L’s summer camps.

(Seriously, folks, this isn’t a college application. He’s in SECOND GRADE. It’s SUMMER CAMP.)

There are questions about likes, dislikes, personality traits, is he an all-in kid, toe-first… I’m to answer these questions, then he’s to answer these questions, then I guess we should seek an impartial party to answer the questions, as well.

We’re nearing the finish line and there’s a section where the camp asks him to “draw or write about some of his favorite activities, hobbies, friends.” I keep checking to make sure this isn’t a dating site (“sunsets, long walks, coffee in bed”).

I sit him down and say, “okay, let’s get her done. Will you draw an activity that you like?”

Mister Sly comes up with this: (It’s L drawing L drawing… Heh heh heh.)

LincDrawingLinc

Bending

We have a mandate in our house: Always tell the truth. You will not be punished for telling the truth. There may be consequences, but telling the truth is paramount.

Okay, got that outta the way.

How about bending the truth?

I’m not proud about this, but these things that may occur in the near future:

–L’s Nerf gun may “go missing.” (A pox on them… Yeah, I’m a chick, I don’t get it.)

–L’s Hoodie, (which I wisely purchased in white and is now stained, soiled, disgusting no matter how many times I wash it) may get “lost” on laundry day.

–L’s newest pet, Tofu the Tadpole, may end up going through his metamorphosis “outside.” In a bucket. (He seems so cute now. In a few weeks he’ll be a giant, loud, jumping all over the place bullfrog. Not gonna happen.)

–The ‘Captain Underpants’ Opus may be “donated.” (They’re past tense at this point. Why not share the love?)

Walk the talk takes a pause.

 

Cute now. Check back in a few weeks.

Cute now. Check back in a few weeks.

Eight or 18?

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.”

M: (Aghast.)

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?”

Past Tense, or “She’s So Fine”

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….”

STOP

Did my unsullied, innocent cherub just French Salma Hayek?

Why, yes. Yes he did. (Good taste.)

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