Monday, May. 17, 2004 - 4:12 P.M.

Life with a teenage son and a two year old pretty much consists of horny teenage girls calling the house at all hours; a man child who eats more food that the entire country of Slovenia; Barney, the purple annoyosaur; and The Wiggles.

My son is preoccupied with all manner of things that don�t directly involve me but most definitely indirectly effect me. Therefore, whenever I need him to do something I practically have to grab his head between my two hands, force him to look at me and then speak slowly so that as many of my words as possible sink in. And yet, sadly, there�s still no guarantee. To him I must sound like satanic messages akin to old KISS songs played backward, all monotone and slow-speaking.

If it were possible to hear his thoughts by holding a stethoscope to his head, this is what I imagine you might hear:

--------------------Girls; God, she�s hot; Don�t forget to tell Mom about�; Dude! Did you see her?; I�m hungry; What was I just thinking about? I think it was important; Oh! Tell Mom about the pro�; Hey! Aw yeah, Baby. You know it!; Boobies; Girls; Food; Ok, I can�t forget to tell Mom that I need to get some post�; I�m hungry; I flippin� hate math; Girls; And History; PlayStation II; Do I have homework?; Boobies; Man, I cannot wait until I get my license!; Do I have my books?; I�m starving; Where are my books?; Girls--------------------

Without fail, he will wait until the last moment to inform me of a matter I need to take some kind of action on. For example, at 10:00 p.m. I�ll get the word that he needs some thing for a science project. Due the next day natch. And the "thing" will be nearly impossible to find--Eye-of-Newt, Christina Aguilera�s innocence or something equally hard to locate. Or, at 7:30 a.m., perhaps I�ll get news that he has to take a food item for an early class function. And you can be sure it will not be a food item we possess in our pantry. Like hominy. Or, bread.

There are days when I spend more time than I�d like to admit plotting the perfect payback. Perchance a night when it�s pouring rain and the clock is quickly ticking past 12:30 a.m.? I�ll tell him I need him to come over immediately, that it cannot wait until tomorrow. And I�ll use guilt. Guilt of the �I was in labor for 18 hours,� �Do you know how much money your college education costs?,� and �You used to have a third lip and a second nose until we paid for surgery� variety. When he arrives, I�ll tell him I simply must have a piece of poster board posthaste.

Ahh, revenge will be sweet.

It�s truly a dish best served cold. With hominy. And bread.

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

� Purplecigar

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