Sunday, August 1, 2010
Last night, I thought I was having a fairly measured and reasonable conversation with Jack regarding why he could not attend our neighbors housewarming party. The party started at 4 and we weren't going until 8:30 as Dave had a gig prior. I told him that not only was it a fancy, catered, grown-up party but by the time we were going to arrive, there would probably be some kinda drunk people. His response? "OH. Like I don't see THAT EVER". Shut up, smart-ass. Don't you have some people to kill in a video game or something? Damn. He further stated that he didn't think it was fair that we were going to have fun and he wasn't. Since when are kids entitled to have fun every second of every day? He practically has a freakin' panic attack if he can't find somebody to come over for a sleepover. Shit, I don't have fun all the time. 95% of the time, to be sure but that other 5% is a total bitch. Oh, and speaking of "bitch", this word has been enthusiastically introduced into Jack's vocabulary. Jack: "Mom, so and so is a little bitch". Me: "Yeah, you're right. He is". When I recounted this conversation to Dave it went something like this: "Jesus, Mollie......he's going to say that at school and get in trouble. But I agree......so and so IS a little bitch". So at least we all agree on that. While I am not thrilled with his recent foray into adventuresome language, I at least appreciate that it is used in an appropriate context. If you're going to call someone a little bitch, you best be sure the person in question is in fact a little bitch. And this little bitch IS a little bitch. But I digress. The Christie family is heading to the bar today. And no, we're not going to sit at the local watering hole doing shots. Dave is playing and we do allow Jack to go to the Holiday during daylight hours. Not by himself. That's where we draw the line. He says it's because he really likes to see his dad play. I say it's that he likes the video games. There's not a finer way I can think of to spend the Lord's day than packing up the fam, heading to bar and watching your child look down the crosshairs of a plastic rifle in an attempt to shoot some varmints while your husband sings, "Community Property" by Steel Panther up on stage. That's about as all-American as apple pie right there. Happy Sunday, everybody.