It is October. Oc-freaking-tober. Stop wearing shorts. Stop pouting when I make you put something warm on so the neighbors don't call social services. Stop leaving your coat at school every day because it's sunny out because so help me, I *WILL* send you to school without another coat tomorrow and then the teachers will call ss themselves or just start to whisper about me and I hate that.
Please, please. Bring your homework home. Just because we CAN go back over to school and sneak in through the afterschool program doesn't mean I enjoy that. I mean, I have important things to do like set the DVR so I don't miss any of my shows. And stop filling up the DVR with every episode of scooby doo that is on. I need the space for important things like The Girls Next Door. Oh, and don't watch that. Ever. Your brain will explode.
Please bring my mail home. I am not 100% thrilled to be the PTA co president because I am somewhat disorganized and it is actual work. For me to miss something and then say "Hm, my son must not have brought that home" makes me sound lame.
Please stop bouncing the rubberband ball. I know it is cool and makes a loud thump and I know your father bought you a whole bag of rubberbands for some reason so that you could spend every waking moment for 3 solid days building the enormous thing but I don't ever want to see it again.
Please don't try to take apart THIS clock. I know you got excited when we got you the other one because it shines the time up onto the ceiling and it even resets itself after a power failure which is completely awesome. But so help me if I find the screws on THIS one stripped when you come to me complaining that the time doesn't look right on the ceiling, I am going to kick your little butt.
I love you,
Mommy
3 comments:
ROFL... glad to know I'm not the only one. Does he do that eyerolling, huffy "look" thing too?
nooooooo, that's the exclusive domain of the 12 year old.
right now he's still into martyr weeping and plenty o' excuses when he gets in trouble.
oh.. yes.. see.. my he is almost 12 also... it's the sister that is the same age as your Mr. Man... and she has that martyr weeping down to an art form. Aren't kids funny.
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