He is funny, kind, inquisitive and silly.
He is soft when I need him to let me rest my head on his overlong curls.
No, I am not cutting his hair anytime soon.
I like it.
I am waiting for the humidity to see what these curls really look like.
What?
He's mine. It's not like I tattoo'd him or something.
Oh, how cute would that be?
Tangent...
We've been told countless times he is the perfect combo of us.
In looks.
For personality, it's about 90 percent me.
Mostly my worst things.
Noisy. Not so much for the patience. Back-talky.
Example.
Begged me to rent Super Mario Brothers for Wii.
He is neither sufficiently mature or Wii-ified to handle this game.
But, it was raining and I passed the desicion to his father.
I thought Lucio knew the party line.
He told me he'd have time to read my mind again after finals.
Suffice to say, fucking Luigi was back in my living room yesterday.
Darling child calls to me from the living room in his sweetest voice, "Mommy, will you come play with me? Daddy doesn't know how to get to Bowser."
I chime back, "Coming, buddy. Give me a few minutes."
I am folding fitted sheets. I had to watch a video on the internet and still I need to take out my Martha Stewart Housekeeping book for a ready reference.
"How long,Mommy?"
"Three minutes, " I relay. I am almost caught up on "Real Housewives of NYC".
I just know that bitch Jill wants to make nice nice with Bethany so she can be a bridesmaid.
A bit dejected, but otherwise on board, Jack trills, "Okay, Mommy."
He is patient. Maybe I am adequate parent who can balance work and family.
Sheets finish and put away.
Closing line, "Only by Bravo."
Team Bethany.
Jill is a classless twazoo.
And don't even get me started on the pot-stirring countess.
Class? Try steerage.
14 seconds later, "Mommy, I don't like to be kept waiting."
I turn around, remote control in my hand and see the image of me, hands on hips, taping is foot at me.
Really? Really.
Let's see how he likes a standoff.
So, how long did he wait?
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