Shocking news: My kid is a smart-ass

After I left work last night, I left for Greg’s parents’ house to pick up the kids.  The minute Brock saw me, he started in with his usual tears and proclamations about how he doesn’t want to come home with me.  He wants to stay with Gee-Gee!  Of course, I’m the best mom in the world and I lose my temper immediately calmly tell him that we have to leave because Gee-Gee is tired of their shenanigans.  He continues to throw a fit so I ignore him and start pushing Adrianna on the swing set. 

Our children absolutely inherited our competitive spirit and seeing his sister do something that he is not doing, immediately makes him forget that he is mad at me and he wants to join the fun. 

Mini-crisis #1: averted.

Before we went home, I had to stop by my parents’ house to pick some stuff up from my mom.  The road that connects my parents’ and Greg’s parents’ houses happens to run right past Greg’s dad’s machine shop.  Normally I don’t think anything about driving past it other than to roll down the windows so the kids can yell “Helllllllooooooooo!” to anybody that might be there.  As we get nearer to my parents’ house, Mom & Dad are out in one of their fields loading up firewood that Dad had cut and Mom had split over the past few days.  We stop and say ‘hello’ and, of course, the kids want to get out so they can use my parents as their own personal human jungle gym.

“Why don’t you guys stay for a bit?  Then we can visit with the kids.”

Obviously what my dad meant was if the kids get out of the car, they won’t go back in without a fight which meant that I had to help load up the wood.

Which, normally would have been fine except I was in my scrubs and work shoes (read: not good wood-loading clothes) and I had no gloves (read: my hands are ouchie this morning).  Brock loaded up approximately four pieces of wood before he got a “sticker fing” in his thumb and declared himself exempt from any further work and therefore, potential injuries, and Adrianna half-ass threw a stick onto the trailer (she was being such a princess and wouldn’t touch anything that would make her “duuty” or “itchy”) and they each got a dollar for their work.  What did I get?

A mother-effing flat tire.

I suspect that when I drove past the shop, I drove over something that gave me a flat.  Luckily, I realized it before I got 10 feet and my dad helped me put the donut on so we could get home.

As soon as I realized what happened, I stopped the car, flagged my parents down, got the kids out of the car so they would stop screaming and pulled the jack out of the back of the car.  Brock decides the best possible spot for him to be is up my dad’s ass “helping” him.  Before Dad can even get the flat tire off, Brock slaps his forehead and said, “Oh my God!”

{stunned silence}

Me: “Brock David!  We do not say that!”

{We’ve had conversations about how we don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.  Thankyouverymuch Pixar movies that are cute but sometimes a little more loose with the language than I prefer my children to repeat.}

Brock: “But Moooommmm!  I was talking to Him!”

Me: “To who?”

Brock: “To God!  I was asking why He made your tire flat!  It’s okay if I say ‘God’ like that, remember?!?!”

Of course, my parents start laughing at how quickly that kid can think on his feet.

My first thought is that his career path is going to lead one of two ways: 1) lawyer or 2) criminal.

Although most lawyers ARE criminals so I guess that distinction didn’t help all that much.

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One thought on “Shocking news: My kid is a smart-ass

  1. He sounds amazingly like his mother when she was his age. Wonder where he gets that?? AND you forgot to say, Daddy helped you pay for your tire, so what did you get out of it? A whole lot more than a dollar.
    AND he does know that he can say God like that and it was a legit question for God, everyone was tired and why did God give you that flat tire?
    Love,
    Nanny (who thinks they are cute even when they throw a fit).

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