Little Man has often held me in high esteem throughout his years. He regularly tells anyone who listens (be it someone in the checkout line, the family doctor, or his father) that his mom is awesome. In the mind of this 8-year-old, I’m the smartest and funniest person around. (It’s gonna be a sad day for us all when reality comes crashing down.)
Great kid, huh? Except for when he makes a point to emphasize that my brains and funnies are vastly superior to his father’s as well. He doesn’t understand why that would be hurtful to his dad since he’s “just stating a fact.” Fortunately his dad doesn’t disagree with him, but still…poor daddy. Hopefully Baby Girl will be in Sam’s corner.
Last night my praises weren’t sung. I don’t think.
Sam and I took the kids to Chick-Fil-A last night to eat and play, and on the way there, we stopped at CVS to pick up a prescription.
When Sam got out of the car to run in, Baby Girl started fussing and said, “Bye, DaDa.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Little Man said. “Daddy will come back to us. He’s a good daddy, and he will always come back when he leaves.”
Aw. My heart grew three sizes.
“He sure is,” I said. “And Mommy will always come back, too.”
I was hoping for “She’s a good mommy,” but instead what I got from Little Man was, “Nah, I don’t think you’d come back.”
“Yes, I would,” I said.
“No, I think if you left you’d probably go out robbing banks and stuff. You’d probably take people’s weapons, then shoot them.”
“What? Why does Daddy come back and I go off and rob banks?”
“That’s just the way you are,” Little Man said. “You’re the type that would rob banks. You can tell.”
“Well, if I did go off robbing banks, I’d make sure I stopped to get you a toy before coming home,” I told Little Man.
“And I’d take it back, because it’s not right to keep things you got with stolen money,” LM countered.
Fine. I’ll keep my loot to myself.