…is my favourite.
The other children have decided this because this kid has a bed like this…
…but ends up falling asleep here…
…in my bed.
He does eventually get carried back to his own bed.
But one day, he won’t weight 45 lbs.
I’m constantly being accused of babying this kid.
Here’s why though.
This afternoon I was driving with the kids.
The cute seven year old in the pictures above was wearing a hat with a pom-pom on the top.
My smart-ass, yet witty, 14 year old was sitting next to him, pulling on the pom-pom.
The seven year old says, “Mom, Wyatt keeps pulling on my hat.”
So I say, “Wyatt, leave his hat alone.”
Wyatt does not leave his hat alone.
So I say, “Wyatt, if you don’t stop, I’ll make you sit in the back of the van.”
Wyatt replies, “Well, then I’ll actually have easier access to his pom-pom.”
So I say nothing more. Because what more is there to say, right.
Apparently there is much more to say, because the 14 year old goes on to proclaim, “Admit it, Mom, you think it’s funny when I torment Terran.”
It is funny. But I don’t admit it. Out loud. That would be wrong.
So as we’re driving along and the seven year old is slumped in defeat against the seat while the 14 year old continues to pull at the pom-pom, the 14 year old says, “Mom, you’re kind of ineffective.”
“What do you mean ineffective?” I ask.
“Well, you didn’t really insist that I stop bugging Terran. You could have taken away my computer priviledges, my cell phone, ‘My Name is Earl’, but you didn’t.”
Ok. Taking away any of those would only mean that I am the one dealing with the annoying 14 year old.
I’d much rather the cute seven year old have to put up with him.
So in turn, I make it up to the seven year old by letting him sleep in my bed.
Fair trade, I think.
Later on in the day though, the 14 year old is in the seven year old’s bedroom.
I hear the seven year old saying, “Wyatt! Get out of my room! You take too much room.” Wyatt is a big boy “You’re just a big piece of poo!” Wyatt is not a big piece of poo
Once the use of words used to describe excrement are flung as a means of self-defence, I know my work is done.
Wyatt comes to my room and says, “Mom! Did you hear that? He just called me a big piece of poo. Are you going to put up with that? You should punish him. Take away his ~insert any or all video gaming equipment~ so he knows that is not appropriate.”
I reply, “Sorry Wyatt, it would seem I’m too ineffective.”
The 14 year old slumps back downstairs and turns on the TV to watch ‘My Name is Earl.’
~Just an aside: it would seem I accidentally quoted a song by Chicago in my last post and gave credit to Billy Joel for it. Yeah yeah sure sure, so I never claimed to be Casey Kasem…I may have also quoted the lyrics wrong…shuddup…~