Monday, September 15, 2008

You’ll cry like a 2 year old girl now. (06.22.08)

I would like to think I’m laid-back person for the most part, unless someone pisses me off. It’s not to say that I can’t be vicious if someone (my child) keeps messing with me. And don’t you DARE try to fling an object in my general direction, much less my head, or life as you know it…will be finished.

Yesterday afternoon me and the family were at church for our night of District Youth. Easy enough. Had a good time. We went to go pick up Cookie at my aunt’s house. CoolTeen had already mentioned he’d like to spend the night with Sharon. I told him he should come home since he had football practice at the butt-crack of dawn the following morning. He stood out in her front yard glaring at me, daring me to make him get in the car. Then he stomped over to my Grandma (his great-grandma), came back out and said “She said I could stay.” Didn’t matter to me. I’ve never heard her say no to anyone, so I told him to get his butt in the car, and we’d go down to meet Sharon at the store to get Cookie. He FINALLY got in, slammed the door, and began wailing like a 2 year old girl. I couldn’t do his “performance” justice with descriptive words, so I made a one-act play instead….titled “CoolTeen’s Song”.

I even laughed after it was over, just because he was being so stupid. I then made the comment about how I would’ve LOVED to have a video camera so I could record him, and then show it to all the kids at church, school, etc.

Then things got ugly.I’ll be damned if CoolTeen didn’t just pick up a random toy and throw it forwards, and smack me in the back of the head with it. Did it hurt? Nope. Was I pissed? Like you don’t even know. I was going all of 10 miles per hour when I whipped over to the side of the road, jerked open the back door, and proceeded to frog CoolTeen with the fist of fury. Mature of me? Oh sure it was. Let him hit you in the back of the head with something.Then I proceeded to tell him that when we made it home, he was going to get a butt-whooping like NO other. He told me he’d run. I told him I’d be waiting when he got tired.

I gave him 2 choices, being the excellent mother that I am. He could either go to his room and wait for me, and I’d give him 10 licks quickly; OR, he could run, and when he finally got back home, I’d still give him 10 licks…but very slowly, as hard as possible, and with a minute break between each one.

Do you know what he had the BALLS to ask me on the way home? If we could stop at Sonic? What? Were you just in the car five minutes ago when the deed went down, sucka? The smartest thing he did last night was go straight to his room.

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