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.
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