The Talk

I have decided that having "the talk" with my pre teen son was a hell of a lot more embarrassing for me then it was for him. I have 3 boys. I have no idea what is going through a male's mind during puberty. Quite frankly, I just don't want to know. Granted, I definitely don't want to be a grandparent anytime soon, nor do I want my child getting any STD's. However, until the other day the extent of my answers to my children's questions about "Where do babies come from?" has always remained the same. "They're a gift from GOD." My ex overheard that explanation once, and went around smiling like a goofy goober for a week. That just made me want to punch him. So, as I'm trying to explain what his body might be going through, the whole time I'm praying that I could zap into an episode of  Star Trek and say "Beam me up Scotty!". Needless to say, I made it through the ordeal. I am scarred for life. I have to do this two more times.

I take it back

There was a moment not long ago, yesterday in fact when I thought maybe my kids were a tad bit spoiled. (Of course if someone else were to point that out? "Them's fighting words!") It may have something to do with the fact that as soon as I mentioned I needed to go to the store to grab a few essentials, my 7 yr. old son was all "Mommy I want a toy!".

Me- "Do you think you deserve a toy?" (Recalling earlier today he'd gotten in trouble at school, again. He and his teacher disagree on the value of schoolwork vs play time.)

Him- "Yes" (with a smile)

Me- "I don't think so. You got in trouble." (with my usual raised eyebrow")

Him- "But, I still have two dollars I can buy my own, remember?" (way to break out the negotiating skills kiddo, too bad you spent that last week.)

Me-"You don't have two dollars, you played video games at Walmart, remember?" (and of course the usual pout ensued)

So off to the store we went, I grabbed my things quickly. As we rounded the corner headed to the checkout, we were passing the toy aisle. I glanced over at my son who was longingly gazing at the toys (I felt a twinge of guilt, but held my ground). Then I noticed a sweet little boy with curls atop his head. He reminded me of my youngest before his Nanny took him to the barber and chopped them off. (I was upset I don't care if he looked girly, he was my little cherub, dammit)

I smiled at him, and thought it was sweet how he was tugging on his Mommy's shirt, politely asking for a toy (he looked to have been about 3 or 4) That was until........

She said "No.", and the demon in him came out before my very eyes. He kicked her in the shin, and ran up and down the aisle screaming "Toy! TOY! TOY!!!" I was horrified. For her. For mothers everywhere.

I recalled the conversation in the car where my son said "Please Mommy, can I have a toy?" about 15 times on the way to the store.

That's when I turned to my son and said...."about that toy...."