Conversations with My Son: A Cinematic Experience

Have you ever had a conversation with a child that made you realize that you are no where near as smart as you thought?

That maybe instead of working, you should just go back to school and learn some more shit, because what you know is obviously not enough?

I'm currently having that kind of conversation with The Kid.  We are watching one of his favorite movies Avatar.  I know, I know most people will not think that this is appropriate viewing for an 8 year old.  But...he gets it.

So anyway this is the conversation we are having while watching this long ass movie that I hate.  Well pieces of it because I don't have the strength to write it all.  And also because I've slept through some (most) of it.

The Kid on Online Fuckery
Him: Mama do you know what an avatar is?
Me: Yep, it's something that people use online to identify themselves.
Him: Uh huh. Most people use pictures that don't look like them because they don't want you to know who they really are.

The Kid is on to your Instagram shenanigans folks! Get it together!
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The Kid on Shiesty Settlers
Him: Why do they call the planet Pandora?
Me: Well, probably after the myth of Pandora's Box where all of the evils of the where where stored in
the box until some dummy let them out.
Him: Hmmm...No, Mama that's a theory.  People just make up stories to explain things that happen in life like evil, sickness, and bad things like that.
Me: Oh. *but ain't that what I just said though...*
Him: But that theory makes sense.  Those people don't have anything bad happen until the aliens from Earth come and mess everything up and try to steal their natural resources.

Tea Party he's talking to you....
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The Kid on Evil Army Generals
Me: Man that dude has some serious issues.
Him: I know right? He really needs to relax.
Me: Relax? How?
Him: Oh I don't know.  Read a book or watch a movie or take a nap or something.
Me: You think that would help?
Him: Probably not.  He probably needs a wife.  I know that's what you would say, right Mama?
Me: *side eye*

The Kid talks like he knows me or something.
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The Kid on Alien Animals
Him: That cat thing is vicious!!
Me: I know! It's pretty scary.
Him: Yes! It's really territorial. Kind of reminds me of you.
Me: Word?
Him: Yea Mama.
Me: Care to explain?
Him: *blank stare* Is that really necessary? *smirk*

It's officially official. I've raised the snarkiest kid on the planet. If you see any free adoption ads on Craigslist pretend like you don't know me.
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Okay, maybe you aren't as impressed as I am.  I get it.  He's not the fruit of your loins.  But I was pretty surprised at how well he grasped some of the themes in the movie that went over some adults (my) head.

Well, that's all I have for today.  Let me sit up and pretend like I've been watching this craptastic nonsense.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I had the most interesting conversation with The Kid this morning.  It all began with him talking about getting his yearbook signed by his classmates, then it took a left turn that had me reeling (well not really, but I did cuss a little bit).

It went a little something like this:
Him: Mama, I think I'm gonna take my yearbook to get it signed by my friends.
Me: Sounds like a good idea to me.
Him: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get some phone numbers.
Me: Really? From who?
Him: My friends.  Some of them are girls. *smile*
Me: Interesting.  But, you don't have a phone, so how are you going to call these friends that are girls? Him: Funny you should mention that.  I think it's time for me to get a cell phone.
Me: No shit?
Him: Yeah, all my friends have cell phones.
Me: Really?
Him: Airick has a Blackberry, Kimora has an Iphone, *goes on to name several other children with smart phones*
Me: Wow. Well, let's do this. You write them all letters this Summer and tell them to use their paltry imaginations and pretend that they are texts.
Him: Dang Mama. You just shattered my greatness. I mean I'm gonna be in the 3RD GRADE!! *sigh*

Me:


Soooo....coolness in the 2nd going on 3rd grade is a cell phone?

This dude seriously came out of his face asking for an iPhone.

How on Earth are there people walking these streets thinking it's okay for children who can barely wipe their own asses to have rollover minutes?

I mean, I know this is a technological generation and all but I'll be damned if I let a dude that doesn't have a close and person relationship with FICA rock with Siri on the regular.  No ma'am.

No way I'm going to add a kid who thinks that it's completely possible that his super powers will manifest any day now to my Friends and Family plan.  I'll mess around and have all kinds of calls to Goku, Spiderman, and Thor on my bill.  No bueno.

But I tell you what I will do....

I'll dig this Nokia out of the 1996 crate and he will deal.

I'll tie 2 Dixie cups to a string and let him and his friends figure it out.

I'll give him a box full of spare buttons and foil and tell him to pretend like his name is Phineas or Ferb.

I don't have time for this foolishness.  I need you parents to let your kids be kids for just a little while longer.  Hell, we already know they are the generation that's going to end it all. Why the hell are y'all rushing shit?

Conversations with My Son: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Every morning during our commute from the mean streets of the burbs The Kid asks a question.  Sometimes it's thought provoking, sometimes it's nonsensical, sometimes he just wants to know how to pronounce the name on the big rig next to us.

Today's question was a thought provoking one.

The Kid: Hey Mama, if you were a super hero what would your name and super power be?
Me: Hmmm, that's a good question.
The Kid: I'd be Stealth and be able to sneak up on people and scare the piss outta them!
Me: That sounds cool.
The Kid: So what would you be?
Me: My name would be the Silencer and my power would be making people shut the fuck up on command. With powers like that I could rule the world!

If I was the Silencer I would totally use my powers for good.  I would travel around in my hot pink Silence Mobile (with purple flames and 22s) and use my catch phrase "Shut the entire fuck up!!!" on people who just don't know when to shut their damn pie holes.

I'd be available for baby showers and bat mitzvahs. 

I'd heckle at Republican debates.

I'd swoop down on Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity and drop so many f-bombs that the FCC would have no choice but to shut them down.

I'd destroy reality television "housewives" with a few well placed "Boo! Bitch! Bye!" and they all will disappear.

Pretty Ricky would never be able to record another album.  Neither would Wocka Flocka or Justin Beiber.

Yeah, being The Silencer would be pretty damn awesome.  Just thinking about what I could do with my powers actually got me through a pretty rough day.  Imagining how I would silence some people at the j-o-b was extremely damn therapeutic.

I don't want to be the only person having all the fun though.  If you were a super hero, what would your name and super power be?

Conversations with My Son: Greatness

If you've known me long enough you know that I'm all about self love, self worth, and self esteem.  Tee believes that in order to be the best citizen of this universe that you can be, you really need to love, honor, and believe in yourself whole heartedly.

I've been teaching these lessons to The Kid. And for the most part, to be an 8 year old he's pretty damned confident.  However, I thought I was also teaching him that with confidence you should also have a little bit of humility.

I've failed.  Some of you might call it epic.

The other day we had the following conversation while playing Phines and Ferb: Across the 2nd Dimension.

The Kid: Hey Mama.
Me: Yeah?
The Kid: I'm pretty sick.
Me: *slightly panicked Mommy mode* Oh no! Really? Does your tummy hurt? Do you have a fever? Let me go get the thermometer You should probably stop playing Wii.
The Kid: Ugh! No mama, I'm not sick.  I'm SICK! SICK!
Me: Wait. What? Seriously? I'm not following.
The Kid: *side eye of exasperation* *sigh* Look at me Mama. Really look at me. Do you see it?
Me: Uhhhhh....yeah?
The Kid: Yeah. *smiles with satisfaction*
Me: Hey. Umm. No, seriously. What are we talking about?
The Kid: *second side eye of exasperation* Really Mama? I'm SICK as in AWESOME! *flexes muscles*
Me: Oh. OK. *blank stare*
The Kid: *blank stare* Nevermind. Where's Daddy? He'll understand.

And just like that I'm tossed into the clueless mother category.  How could this be?  I taught this kid almost everything he knows about what it is to be awesome, amazing, outstanding, and stupendous. 

In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say that without my RNA/DNA combo running through those veins he'd be walking around with a Pig Pen cloud and his knuckles dragging like Cro Magnon. 

Not saying that Hubby's didn't supply some decent genetics.  He's genetic makeup just clearly is not as awesome as Tee's. 

What is this world coming to? There's actually a person walking these streets questioning my understanding of greatness!  The nerve.

I know it's been a while but I'm still keeping count.  This is sign number 4929349248945832.89-34c that the world is ending.

Conversations With My Son: He Got Game

So this morning, The Kid has really been getting on my nerves.  He keeps coming in here asking if he can use my laptop to play games on Disney XD.  I told him he could, but apparently I'm not moving my shit fast enough because every 5 minutes he's in here looking at me and then his watch like "Heffa, I was just in here 5 minutes ago".

Who the hell does he think he is? This is my shit! I paid for this.  Who the hell does he think he is to be coming at me with these impatient type shenanigans? The last person that came at me like this got a earful of choice words and a file folder tossed at his dome.  Well, not really, but I sure wanted to do that. 

This little dude can get it though.  So I'm not sure why he's coming at me like he don't know me.

I guess my frustration was showing on my face because we just had the following conversation:

Him:Mama are you mad?
Me:Yea. I don't like it when you don't listen.  I don't like to be rushed.
Him: Oh, I'm sorry Mama.  I just really, really, really  wanna play Disney XD.
Me: I know.  But you'll get to play, when I say you can play.  All this extra stuff you're doing is working my nerves.
Him: Don't be mad Mama.
Me:  I'm trying not too.  But you're making it hard for me.
Him:  Aww, Mama.  Don't be mad.  I think you're beautiful.  More beautiful than anything.  But I can't describe it cuz that's like comparing a sunset to a rainbow.*smile*
Me:*totally forgot what I was mad about* Shit. . I'll bring the laptop in a minute baby.

What the hell just happened here? A few sugary sweet words and a smile and he had me doing whatever he wanted.  I knew what was happening, but I had no way to fight it. But how did he know to use these types of war tactics on me? I mean, I recognized the game.  His father hit me with some stuff like that way back in the summer of 1994 (or was it 1995?) and you see where that got me!

Ugh! This shit is not cool.  I've got some survival skills to hone up on.  I'm too easy.  I gotta start treating him like I treat people in the streets. 

Hide your daughters people! He's perfecting his game at 7 yo.  Don't ever say I didn't warn you. SMH

Conversations With My Son: Does He See What I See?

I'm getting LASIK! I'm so happy.  I can't wait to get rid of my glasses. The Kid isn't really feeling it though.

Me: Hooray!! I'm going to have surgery!! I won't need glasses anymore!!
Him: Surgery?
Me: Yep! The doctor is going to use a laser to reshape my eyeballs and make me see clearer! Awesome right?
Him: Uh...sure.
Me: You don't think that's awesome?
Him: I mean.  It's okay I guess...what are you going to do with your glasses?
Me: I don't know, I won't need them.
Him: So you won't wear them anymore?
Me: No. I won't need them.
Him: I like your glasses.
Me: You do?
Him: Yes.  I think you are very pretty with your glasses.
Me: Awwww! How sweet! Do you think I'm pretty without them?
Him: *silence*
Me: Hello!?!?! Did you hear me? Do you think I'm pretty without them?
Him: Well...yeah.  But I like the glasses better.
Me: Why?
Him: Because they cover your face.

I tell you what people.  If I didn't have any self-esteem, this kid would have me looking for some rope and an empty closet.  What the hell?

Conversations With My Son: The Middle-Ages

Okay, last night while minding my own business and watching Criminal Minds The Kid saunters into my room.  It’s way past his bedtime so I’m curious as to why he is standing in my bedroom doorway with a peculiar smirk on his face.   Now, as long as I’ve been knowing him you would think that I would consider this particular knowing smirk a red flag.  Whenever I see it I know something ridiculous is coming.  But instead of heading things off at the pass and sending him back to his room, what do I do?  I invite him in.  That’s like the number one rule with all scary movies, never invite the stranger in! They always end up tearing you apart. 

And that's how it always is with my son.  I’ve been known to call The Kid by his alias The Self-Esteem Slayer*.  I swear he can figure out a way to make even the most conceited and convinced person want to turn all mirrors backward and stay locked in a dark room far away from civilization like The Beast. 

Anyway, I invite him in with the hopes of getting a hug or a snuggle or some kind of form of affection that a son normally gives his mother.  Instead, I get this:

Him:  Mama can I ask you something?

Me:  Sure.  Ask.

Him:  Are you middle-aged?

Me:  Ummmm.....I don’t think so.

Him:  Are you sure?

Me:  Yes, I'm sure.  I think middle-aged is like when you are in your 50s or 60s.  I’m nowhere near that.  What do you think middle-aged is?

Him:  35

Me:  Ha! Well, I’m not 35, so I’m not middle-aged.

Him:  But you’re close.

Me:  Well...yeah.

Him:  So...I’ll just call you middle-aged.  My middle-aged Mommy!

Me:  Seriously?

Him:  Yes.  Yes, Mama I so serious.

Me:  Well, what about your Dad? Is he middle-aged?

Him: *shakes head* No, Mama, Daddy isn't middle-aged...

Me: *interrupts* Say what?!?! We are the same da....

Him: *finishes* He's just old.

Me:  *blank stare* Oh.  Go to bed.  Tell the monsters in your closet I said hi!!**

I swear this kid thinks we are like Abraham and Sarah up in this piece!!  I mean he seriously thinks that we are living in a senior citizen situation.  And honestly, I’m slightly perturbed by it.  I mean, I have nothing against middle-aged folks, old folks,  or even folks that just have old faces.  But I am not a member of any of those groups.  I’m willing to bet that most people wouldn’t think I was a day over 25 if they met me.  And even if they did they wouldn’t say it out loud (yes that’s a veiled threat).  In other words, I LOOK GOOD! Where the hell this kid got this middle-aged stuff, I'll never know, but he needs to take it back.  He's not going to get through too many of these conversations unscathed.

And I just had a thought: I’m really going to have to work with this guy on how to filter comments when talking to a lady.  He has to know that there are some things that you just don’t say.  Because the first girl he sees with chin hair or a moustache he’s going to say something crazy to her.  I just know it!  And don’t let a poor little lamb ask him if she looks fat in her jeans... damn.  I'm just going to have to make sure we keep good health insurance. *sigh*

*This isn't his only alias, but it's the only one that matters for this story.

**Well, I didn’t really say the monsters part.  But dammit I really wanted to.

Conversations With My Son: Old People Edition

So today The Kid and I had the following conversation while watching the NCIS marathon on USA.

Me: I think you're awesome.  You are the best son ever.
Him: Thanks Mama. You're the best Mom ever.
Me: I think you are a great grandson and nephew too.
Him: Am I your grandson and nephew?
Me: No, but my parents and my siblings think you're pretty great.
Him: Siblings?
Me: Yes.  That's another word for brothers and sisters.
Him: Oh.  I have zero siblings.
Me: Yes, but I think you'd be a great big brother if you did.
Him: Well, I don't think you and Daddy would live long enough to know that.
Me: What! What do you mean?
Him: I mean...you both are in your 30s.  You're getting closer and closer to 99!
Me: *blank stare*
Him: Yeah, I think you all should just enjoy life right now.  Old people and babies aren't friends.
Me: Thanks for clearing that up.

See how he can take a loving mommy-son moment and piss all over it? Really? Being in your 30s is the equivalent to being geriatric these days? I can't.  Not today.

Conversations With My Son: The Kids Greatest Hits

Today is my son's birthday.  He has provided our family with 7 years of awesomeness.  It's been 7 years of copious amounts of laughter and joy.  Today while under the guise of doing real work, I sat at my desk reflected on all of the hilarity that he has brought into my world.  And I laughed and laughed and laughed.  And then I thought,  I need to share this with the world.  So today, in honor of The Kid's birthday I give you The Kids Greatest Hits!!!

First we'll start with a glossary of terms.   Of course our conversations do not center around these particular phrases, but they damn sure make me laugh every time he uses them.  And yes, he manages to use them in conversation on a regular basis.

Dude: everyone is a dude. Gender does not matter.  How a little black boy from the rough streets of the MD burbs by way of the mean streets KY ended up sounding like Keanu Reeves is a mystery to me.  But "c'mon dude", "hey dudes", "really dude?"  and "awesome dude" are all used frequently.

Herman:  This one snuck up on me.  I really thought Herman was a classmate.  I didn't realize that he was using the word as a verb until we were watching television and a particularly frilly young man came on screen and he said "that dude is a Herman.".  Being the dumbass that I am, I offered the actors name.  And he says to me "No, Mama.  He's a herman, he acts like a HER, but he a MAN...Herman." Really? This is what 1st graders come up with now days?

Hurtful: well the definition is clear.  He uses this word for any reason that hurts his feelings.  If you tell him his farts stink, that he has to go to bed, that he has to eat broccoli he'll respond in kind with "hurtful". One little word, yet it holds so much power. 

Seriously: I really wasn't expecting to hear this one for another decade or so, but I guess his smart ass development is not on my timeline.  Everytime his father or I do something that he deems unacceptable or uncool he gives us a *side-eye*, an *exasperated sigh* and a "Seriously".  I don't really give a shit when he says it anymore.  Like I'm gonna let a 7 year olds judgement affect the way I live.

Don't Judge Me: I take full responsibility for this one.  He hears me saying this all of the time.  And now he asks that we don't judge his love for TMNT, his disdain for the color pink, or his need to eat every two hours like a damn newborn.

So, I'm sure you're not impressed by The Kids vocabulary.  And honestly, if I thought he only used these five phrases, I probably wouldn't be either.  Then again, I'm not trying to impress you people anyway.  Just giving you a few of reasons to giggle.  So please get a load of what I'm calling his "greatest hits".  The things that he's said over the past 7 years that had me ROTFLMAO.

The Kid on Columbus Day:
Me: Stay at home day for me!!
Him: I know.
Me: Yep. It's Columbus Day. Do you know who he is?
Him: Um hmm. He's the guy that was lost and then found the Indians and made them all sad.
Me: Oh. Well. Have a good day at school

The Kid on Being Black:
I'm not from African America! I'm from Kentucky!

The Kid on Literature:
While watching The Count of Monte Cristo-
Me: This is one of my favorites. Its based on a book written by Alexandre Dumas.
Him: Really? He wrote about old people, huh? Those guys look like they're from the 1970's!!!
Me: *silence*

The Kid on Skin Care:
Him: *rubbing my arm* Mommy, your skin is so so soft.
Me: Thanks bay. That's cause I exfoliate and moisturize.
Him: Nah, I'm saying it's soft. Like soft. It's almost like you have a garanjular (glandular) problem.
Me: *blank stare* You watch too much tv, tomorrow you will color and play with blocks.

The Kid on Homework:
Him: Aww man Mommy my neck is hurting. Can I quit?
Me: No, change the way you're sitting that may help.
Him: No Mommy. It's my brain. It's too big right now. You need to lemme watch tv so it can relax and lose weight.
Me: *blank stare*

The Kid on Height:
Him: Mommy...are you short?
Me: No...I'm average.
Him: Am I average too? 'Cause I use the stool to reach things just like you.
Me: :-(

The Kid on Marriage:
Him: Mommy how long have you and Daddy been married?
Me: almost 8 years.
Him: Wow...and he still thinks you're cute?
Me: -speechless-

The Kid on Incompotent Supervisors:
Mommy I think she's a spy for the devil.

You notice how I usually end up speechless?  There are very few people on earth that can say something so ridiculous to me that I'm unable to form words.  In fact I can only think of 3, my good friend JP, my other good friend the Good Reverend Doctor, and The Kid.  They all are XYs. I'm sure that has something to do with it.  XYs are really good at Jedi mind tricks.  And the trick that gets me every time is making me laugh.  Laughter is totally the best way to distract me.  And because I'm so used to laughing at the foolishness and shenanigans in the world, it's hard to come to terms with the common sense ridiculousness that can come from these guys.  But let's also remember that two of them are middle-aged (at times grumpy) old men.  But the last one is 7, he's had nowhere near the amount of time to hone the ability to get under my skin that the other two have.  He's like some kind of virtuoso with it.  Ah well, I guess I have to get used to it.  I have 10 years and 364 days until I can legally kick him out on his ass.  Hopefully, he'll make the most of it by making me laugh.

Conversations With My Son: This Christmas

Well, Christmas is officially over!! Hip hip hooray!! I guess I can crawl out of my hole now.  I'll  be honest and say that my day wasn't too bad.  It was actually much better than I thought it would be.  Definitely much better than the past few.  My son is definitely one of the reasons why.  He was extra excited this year about Santa coming.  Which is odd because he's never been a big believer.  He knows his parents, grandparents, and other family members give him gifts, Santa was just the cherry on top who brought a couple of special extras.  This year was different though. He talked more about the jolly old elf coming to our home.  He didn't tell me what he wanted Mommy and Daddy to get him for Christmas, as a matter of fact, we were taken completely out of the equation.  This year he wrote a very specific list of items that he wanted Santa to bring.  We were very surprised when he brought it to us to review.  We had the following conversation about it:

Him: Mama, Daddy I need you to check something out for me.
Me: Really? What is it?
Him: It's my letter to Santa.
Hubby: Letter? That's not a letter.  That's a list.
Him: Um, Daddy...stay with me.
Hubby: But a letter for Santa says "Dear Santa".  Yours doesn't.
Him: Seriously, Daddy?  I don't have to say "Dear Santa", Santa knows it's for him. Who else is a list of toys gonna be for? *exasperated sigh*
Me: We're getting off track people.  What's the letter for?
Hubby: Yeah, get em on track because shit is about to get very unmerry for somebody...

So before  the conversation results in a trip to the ER for the kid I intervene and actually look at the "letter".  It's actually a damn itemized list of toys, games, and puzzles that are "must haves" for him.  Seriously, I don't know who taught him how to write in outline format, but I swear he had everything in order.  I'm talking stuff like "Bioncles - red, green, blue, gold", "Transformers - Old school Bumblebee", "games for my Wii - fun".  So, I'm looking at this list 20 or so items and thinking that my son must really think that we live above the poverty line. We've really got him fooled.  So I ask:

Me: What happens if Santa doesn't get you everything on this list?
Him: That's not gonna happen. Each toy is something that I really, really, really need.  Especially the Bionicles and the Transformers. He knows.
Me: But what if he doesn't.
Him: *deep thought* Well, this is what we'll do.  YOU can take it to work and make a copy.  We keep the copy and send the one I wrote to Santa.  That way we can check off everything that he gets me.
Me: But what if everything doesn't get checked off?
Him: I won't be happy Mama.  I'll be vehwee, vehwee upset.  So that's how I know that he will.
Me: *blank stare*

Okay. I'm not sure when my child became The Godfather.  It obviously happened sometime between Thanksgiving and the first two weeks of December.   But, it's looking like he's ready to extort Santa for some Leggos and shit.  I'm not sure I'm with this, but I'm afraid I'll end up with horse's head in my bed.  As I sit there contemplating whether or not I want to ride with this little gangster, I'm also wondering what the hell Drake & Josh, Big Time Rush, and Phineas and Ferb have been teaching my poor, sweet little lamb.  No way he could've come up with this on his own.  What to do? What to do? I guess I could warn Santa that his shins are in grave danger if stuff doesn't turn out like the kid wants.  But since I'M Mrs. Claus and I already know the danger my husband is in, how do I handle this?  What to do?!

Well, dammit I did what any self respecting parent would do when her spouse is in danger.  He got everything on that damn list.  Look, don't judge me.  Don't judge me because I had to do some colossal hoe shit to make sure he had it all.  Don't judge me because I turned into the Christmas parent that I'm always talking about.  I wasn't thinking about all that.  I was thinking about my health and well being, I was thinking about the safety of my spouse.  I'm already in a damn boot.  I can't take anymore set backs folks!

Plus, I'm a sucker for that kids smile.  He was super amped yesterday.  So, it was worth it.  No bah humbugs here.  Oh, in case you were wondering, yes, yes he did recall everything that was on his list.  He said, "Wow.  I got everything I asked for! Plus some stuff I didn't ask for."
Me: I know, right?  You must have been a good boy this year.
Him: Well...I wasn't too bad.  I guess Santa knows what I like.
Me: Yep. I guess he does.
Him: Well, everything except clothes.  Who gives that for a gift? *stink face*
Me: SMH

I know I'm a day late, but happy holidays folks.

Black or White...

It's been a pretty lazy day.  I've stayed in the house all day watching music videos and playing Words With Friends.  My son came into my room to snuggle and watch television with me.  We settled on a show called Soul Squared that comes on VH1 Soul.  The premise of the show is that they show two videos by the same artist back to back.  I really like the show because they normally play great music from awesome artists.

Like today, as my son and I were laying in bed they played some videos from Michael Joseph Jackson or MJJ as I lovingly call him.  The videos were "In The Closet" and "Rock With You".  While we watched these videos the kid commented on the tightness of MJJ's pants (in both videos), his girl hair, the glitter on his pants, his new girl face.  Every comment causing me to grit my teeth in anger and frustration because I really want to say something to the kid for his hateration.  But who really calls a 6 year old a hater?  Not Tee.  Anyway, I guess he was sitting close enough to feel the steam coming out of my ears because he whispered to me in a tone that was meant to not hurt my feelings, "Mommy...ummmm...in this video Michael Jackson is b-r-o-w-n, in that other one he was w-h-i-t-e...".  I didn't even bother to respond.  I just turned the volume up a bit.

So then a Robin Thicke video came on, it was the one for the song "Magic".  The kid says, "Mommy, he don't dance good like Michael Jackson".  This made me smile.  It's obvious he's trying to make up for the heinous things he said before.  I accept his subliminal apology and snuggle a little closer.  As we sit there talking about what the song is about and how there's nothing "magical" about the video.  In this case, that means no flying superheroes, intergalatic battles, or random lightning bolts striking folks in the street.  So the next Robin Thicke video comes on, it's "Dreamworld".  Kind of dark.  The subject matter in the song is pretty serious.  We watch in silence for a minute or so and then the kid asks a question that leads to the following asinine conversation that resulted in me banishing him to his room with Drake & Josh and Big Time Rush.  Check it out:

Him: Mommy, can I ask you a question?
Me: Ask.
Him:  Is Robin Thicke a real white man or a fake one like Michael Jackson?
Me: Say what?  Michael Joseph Jackson is most definitely a black man!
Him:  Not really.
Me:  What do you mean not really?
Him:  I mean he was brown but then he wasn't no more.  He looked-ed like a white lady.
Me:  Are you serious?  Are you seriously gonna sit here and say that to me?
Him:  I'm sorry Mama.  That's just reality.
Me:  Get out. Go to your room!
Him: What I do?  All I said was he looked-ed like a white lady.  You said always tell the truth.  And THAT'S the truth.
Me:  No the truth is Robin Thicke is white.  Michael Jackson is black.  And YOU are going to your room because this conversation is over! *silently pointing to my bedroom door*

Can you believe this shit?  I'm fuming! Did he really just call my idol a white broad?  See this is the type of behavior that gets a kid sent to Switzerland for military school or your letter to Santa returned to sender.  I'm pissed.

Conversations With My Son

My son is 6 and he says the darndest things.  He asks questions that make me think.  He gives me information about things that I didn't know existed in this world.  The kid is some kind of genius.  But this could be just the Mommy in me talking. 

He and I often have great conversations.  Usually, they are about mundane things like the latest happenings on Dragon Ball Z Kai or debates about who's more awesomer: Spiderman or Iron Man.  But occassionally, he will ask a question or drop some serious knowledge about life.  It's usually something that involves deep thought and often leads to introspection.  For example, today we had a conversation about where babies come from.  It went a little something like this:

Him: Mama, I know how babies get here.
Me:  Really?  How?
Him:  You poop them out. 
Me: Say what?
Him:  Yeah, you poop them out.
Me:  No baby, that's not exactly how it goes.
Him:  Then how does it go?
Me:  Babies come out of the mommy's vagina.  She doesn't poop them out.
Him: Sooooo....I didn't come out of your butt?
Me: No.
Him:  Are you sure, because I could've sworn I came out of your butt. 
Me:  I'm so sorry that you're memory is failing you.  But I promise you didn't come out of my butt.  That's something that I would definitely remember. 
Him: Hmmmm.  So I didn't come out of your butt?  I came out of your buh-gina? *puke face*
Me:  Correct.
Him:  Well that's just gross. *walks away disgusted*

At the moment I'm sitting on my couch letting VH1 Soul watch me while I try and figure this shit out.  I really want to go into his room, press pause on his Looney Tunes DVD, and ask exactly why a baby coming out of your ass is less gross that pushing one the normal way? Because in my opinion it soooooo isn't.  But I know it's going to lead to another conversation that's gonna leave me confused and with more questions, so why bother?  I'll ask the only other adult in the house, surely he'll be able to help me understand the goings on of a 6 year olds mind.

We'll call him Hubby.  Our conversation went like this:

Me: Do you think that a baby coming out of an ass is less gross than natural childbirth?
Hubby: Uhhhh...yeah.
Me: Seriously?  Childbirth, the way that it is, is a beautiful thing.*
Hubby: Yeah, I'm serious.  That shit is gross.  You didn't have to look at it.  I did. *puke face* *shiver*
Me: What did it look like?
Hubby: What? The baby coming out?
Me: Yes.
Hubby: *silence* *blank stare* *shiver* I can't really say because I've blocked it out.  Don't ask again, please.
Me:

Well, that was a bust.  So, here I am, sitting on my couch.  Now NCIS is watching me.  I'm not surprised that both of the XY's think that a baby coming out of one's ass is less gross than actual childbirth.  Men would never think that there's anything great about it.  Not even a kid who thinks you get pregnant by eating special foods that make babies grow in your belly.  Which, now that I think about it, totally goes with his shit 'em out theory!

See? This is what I'm talking about.  He's 6! But he's coming up with theories on things that he knows nothing about that totally makes sense when you put them together even though they are completely crazy and wrong!  This is what I get for reading and letting him listen to classical music in utero.  Next time, I'm dumbing the kid down.  I'm only reading Dick & Jane books and letting the kid listen to Souljah Boy.  I'll be damned if I end up with another one like this in the house with me.  I refuse to be the dumbest person in my own home.

*: I don't really think this.  I personally think pregnancy and childbirth are horrible.  The getting there? GREAT!  The end result? AWESOME! The in-between? *barf*