It seems as though our Bosco has decided that he will no longer comply with previously established expectations. Do what I say 50% of the time? No. Now it’s more like 20%. Lunch then nap? No. Now it’s don’t eat lunch, don’t take a nap, and don’t be quiet so other people (me and Bubba) can nap. Don’t pee unless it’s in a toilet? Not anymore. Now it’s pee in the bed at night and occasionally on the floor during the day. Have a general understanding of the word “NO”? Nope. Now “NO” means “It’s fine mom. Relax.” Likewise “settle down” has now adopted the meaning of “go monkey bat speedy.”
Needless to say I am loosing.my.mind.
However, I still possess enough magical mom power to confound and amaze this little guy every once in awhile, restoring admiration and respect, be it ever so brief.
I didn’t even know I had this power until last week when I had asked Bosco to please go in the bathroom and get me a tissue, which oddly he agreed to do. Now as a mother I have grown accustomed to fine tuning my hearing so I can zone in on potential problems.
I put myself in such a zone as he walked away and into the bathroom. I heard him open the door, go in the bathroom, move the stool over. And I thought to myself, “Why is he using a stool? Oh he must be trying to get a tissue from the counter instead of just grabbing a piece of toilet paper, since I failed to tell him that we are out of actual tissues.” So after I had this conversation with myself I yelled, “Bosco, you don’t need to get a tissue from the counter. We’re out of tissue. Just get me some toilet paper.”
He came back moments later with some toilet paper, and a weird look on his face. He then proceeded to just stand there for thirty seconds and look at me. No blinking. Just staring at me with his mouth open. Well, like a good mother I finally asked him what the heck was wrong, to which he said in this far out amazed tone, “HOW did you know what I was doing?”
Obviously this is a secret I intend to guard with my life for as long as it has such stunning results.