Or is it Mom Boss? And by that I mean The Boss OF Mom. Because, no way am I the boss. Jack and I took a long drive to see my family today. As usual, Jack was excellent in the car, preoccupied with his books. Loving that! He read some funny parts out loud here and there, and grunted a lot, but mostly kept to himself.
Jack: Mom, I’m hungry.
me: Uhhh, I didn’t pack any snacks, so we’ll have to wait until lunch with everyone. Sorry. There’s water…here.
Jack: (taking the bottle from me and not looking up from his reading) Thanks.
me: Put it in the cup holder back there…
Jack lifts the little armrest thing to flip out the cup holder and finds an old bag of pretzels from the other day.
Jack: OOOOhhhh, snacks!
me: Eh, go ahead, they were stale to begin with.
And that’s about the extent of our car ride. Jack is a trooper. After lunch we headed to the park and Jack showed his true colors.
me: Okay, you had time at the playground, now we’ll go climb on the tanks for a few minutes and then we have to go home. BUT, if you keep hitting Uncle John, we’re NOT going to the tanks, got it?
Jack: Mom, we always go on the tanks. (Long pause as he meets my eye in the rear view mirror). Don’t make me have to freak out on you. Because I will.
His delivery was great and we all laughed. I should have done something but it was too funny. Nothing fazes me now. Everyone kept saying “he acts like he’s 20 years older than he is.” And it’s true. I just still have to get used to it.