Aidan: "Conor wrote Snowmen on my school picture order form, Mom."
Me, sort of under my breath, but not really: "Goddammit."
It's totally cool, though, 'cause if he says it again in mixed company, I can just blame my dad.
(Everyone who knows my dad is now chuckling to themselves.)
Recently, and inexplicably, Conor has taken to writing the word "snowmen" on papers. I hide the pens, but he finds them. (If I hide them too well, I can't ever find them again 'cause I'm old like that.)
I have no idea why. Why, Conor, why? I've asked him. He says he doesn't know. Except that I think he's trying to be funny? He certainly thinks it's amusing.
We've actually had to discuss this in our IEP meetings. (Individualized Education Plans, for those newbies.) Really? I really have to discuss this in our hours and hours and hours long IEP meetings? Oh my God.
I know, I know, I should be thankful he's not writing it on the wall. But I'm tired of my son's inexplicable behaviors and I'm tired of being thankful for not having behaviors that should have been put to rest years and years ago. I wouldn't put writing on walls past him.
He's thirteen. 13!
4,749 (or more) days old. A teenager.
I should be worried about him impregnating some girl, not writing nonsense everywhere.
|Yeah, that's him blowing bubbles. Yeah, yeah, he's cute.|
I know, I know, it's just a stupid, little, insignificant, pea-in-the-mattress-princess thing. But I'm so tired. So tired. Tired of the puzzle of it all, tired of trying to figure him OUT.
But don't worry your pretty little head about Aidan's language. He knows better. Plus, he tells me that one of this best friends drops the F-bomb pretty consistently when he's upset, so I figure Aidan will need "goddammit" just to keep up.
I mean, I had Catholic school friends to educate me on curse words. Aidan doesn't have that luxury.
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