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Evil Has a Name, and It’s “Mommy”

 

All it took was one after-school playdate to jack-up the smooth seas we’ve been sailing on.  Romeo went to my good friend’s house after-school, to visit his Juliet (who is three years older than him).  There was running, playing, laughter, snack consumption, and Scooby-Doo watching.  Magic, pure magic.

Oh, but then I arrived.

“Mommy, I didn’t want you to come until Scooby Doo was over” (said with sad, whiny voice).

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to chill right here and chat until it’s over.”  Yeah, but don’t thank me or anything for being so nice to allow you extra time to finish your show.  No, anything but that.

So then 15 minutes to get shoes on, ten minutes out the door.  Oh, but then he realizes he’s forgotten his Ironman figure in the house.  Juliet says she will get it (because she’s a little helper monkey like that), and I tell Romeo to wait right here, no need to go back in the house (NOOOOO, not back in the house, where it will take me another 10 minutes to extract you).  But what does he do, totally blows me off and runs where?  I don’t think I even need to say it.

Damn it!! 

So I finally extract him, and tell him to put Ironman in my hand, because he has not followed the directions.

“Fine, but you’re MEAN!”  Whatever, I’m so okay with that.

One more word, I dare you.

I'm no match for you and your evil.

 So all the way home, which, by the way, is only five minutes away, all I hear is “when can I have my Ironman back?”

“When I decide you’ve earned it back, and when you stop asking me about it.”

Back at home, finish homework, into the bath.  I’m in the kitchen trying to cook dinner, and I hear SCREAMING from the bathroom.

“MOMMY, WHEN CAN I HAVE MY IRONMAN BACK??!!”

“Stop asking me, I told you I would give it back when you are behaving and when you stop bugging me about it.”

“You’re mean, mommy.”  Uh huh, I know.

Dinner time.  Little man does not appreciate the beef stir fry I made.  I inform him that this is dinner, and he can either choose to eat, or be hungry.  “Be hungry!  You’re mean, mommy.”

Five minutes pass, and he comes over, stands next to me and hugs me, and says “I just want to say that I didn’t ask for my Ironman back, so can I have it now?”

It took every ounce of willpower and fortitude to not jam Ironman into the garbage disposal and flip the switch.

I will destroy Ironman AND make you wear this frilly dress!!!!

But I didn’t.  I might be “mean,” but I’ve dodged being evil, at least for today.

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About Flannery

Kid, husband, dogs, my mother, full-time job, maximum stress, minimal relaxation...sooner or later I had to vent. AND we moved from California to Texas. I could start a whole other blog about that.

6 responses »

  1. You should have gone full mommy dearest on them. Kids are monsters, it’s a fact.

    …My mom actually told me that she loved me but she doesn’t always like me. Of course, she also gave me away to strangers once too: http://mattposky.wordpress.com/2011/01/25/reverie-in-action-failed-attempts-at-running-away/

    Reply
  2. Guess where Ironman is NOW??!!

    Reply
  3. Don’t we all feel we must be mommy dearest some days? Oh, we don’t? Well, then…I guess it’s just me. (Loved it! Totally funny as usual 😉

    Reply
  4. Awwww…what a sweetheart. Stop being so mean to him! You can hate me now.

    Reply
  5. I think that “Mean” and “Mommy” go hand and hand for many, many years.

    Reply

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