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Flip-Worthy Moments: If Kids Could Vote

Rocks may cover paper, but words can hurt more than sticks and stones!

Gotoyourroom

Aaaand, t-shirt says:  "Yeah, I know, go to my room."

Living in a houseful of girls, who insist that shoving stuff into corners and hiding dirty clothes under the bed is, you know, cleaning, I sometimes forget that we have a son and I don't mean, like, I forget to pick him up from school (which is a good thing, seeing as my kids go to four different schools) or, that he's not listed on our tax forms, or anything.

It's just that, you know, boys are different.

Although, I really DO have trouble remembering which is which (all three of my daughters' names begin with the same letter) there isn't a day that goes by when my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I don't find ourselves praying for patience to NOT have to ring their little necks.

The Boy?  Well, I just send him to his room.  After all, he IS the only one who doesn't have to share one!

"Psssst..."

My oldest daughter is turning 15 in November (I know, but that's a whole OTHER blog post) and has this way of getting my attention, by making me believe that something in the house has sprung a leak, AGAIN.

"Can we talk?"

I had a feeling, it was NOT going to be good news.

"The Boy called me a name, today."

[heavy sigh]

 

"I'll talk to him about it."

I had a feeling, judging by the look on her face (yeah, I'm good at that) it was NOT going to be enough.

 

"Aaaand, have him apologize."

Silence.

 

"I'm guessing, a crucifixion is in order."

After explaining to her what exactly that meant (um, we are in between churches, at the moment) I excused her sisters from the kitchen table (The Boy was playing a video game in the living room) and asked her to whisper it in my ear, anyway.

[eyes go wide]

Holy crap (yeah, I said it out loud) but, this one was going to hurt!

"But, he said he didn't know what it meant."

She went on to explain that, while I was picking up Mini-me from girl scouts, The Boy got angry with her and called her a "Bitch!"

So, even if he really didn't know what the word meant, his timing was good.

"Why did you call her that?"

My poor son.  I'm sorry, but you really have to know The Boy -- not to mention, be around my girls for any length of time -- to understand how difficult it really is to reprimand the kid, sometimes, when all I want to do is...UGH...I know that living with all these girls around can really be hard on a little guy.

"My friends say it all the time."

Just so you know, he's in the fourth grade (I know!) so, I asked him, like, how?

"I dunno."

I asked him to use it in a sentence.

"Homework is a bitch!"

Uh-yup.

"Meaning?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I hate it."

Understandable, yes?

"Okay, but did you know that it is also a word that is used to disrespect women and, being a woman, it can really hurt?"

Judging by the tears in his eyes, I truly believe he did not.

"I don't want you to call anyone names - especially, when you don't even really know what it means."

His sister accepted his apology and yesterday, he called her a "Skankbag!"

"Tell your father!"

Honestly, I was too angry to deal with him and, quite frankly, I felt a little hurt that he obviously didn't listen to a word I said, just the other day.

"So, what did you do to him?"

I don't mean to suggest that my husband (or, I) would physically hurt him, or anything.  We don't hit our kids.  It's just that he comes up with really good  punishments, that usually involve grounding the kid, or taking away a privilege and I just wanted to, you know, be on the same page and not offer the kid an ice cream, or agree to a sleepover and...well, you know.

"I gave him 5 minutes to come up with his own punishment and, if it wasn't enough, I would then double what I had in mind."

Oooooh, he's SUCH a mean daddy.

"So, what he come up with?"

[frowns]

"He said no video games for the entire month of November and that he should not be allowed to play, with his friends, for the rest of the year!"

[eyes go wide]

"I was only going to ground him for a week!"

Morale of the story:  You can't pick your kid's friends, and you can't pick your kid's nose, but my kids know when they are being little boogers and won't invite their friends, to dinner.  Or, something like that.

Stupid boys!

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