September 23, 2008

a tick in your navel

Sooooo, coming back from Ft. Worth was a similar experience driving down - at least the first half. Once we hit Little Rock I made Kevin wake up so we could finish listening to "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" on cd, which we did. May I just politely request that Robert Louis Stevenson rise from his Samoan grave and rewrite the last chapter? One of the most fascinating stories in English literary history, and he nearly ruins it with the longest, most tedious, most anti-climactic ending ever written. But I digress . . .

Kevin woke, and after Karen (the GPS aussie navigational mistress) led us on an unfruitful wild goose chase for a non-existent, but much-craved Schlotsky's (which she pronounced "skaLAWTskies") we stopped at Carino's for lunch. About an hour post-lunch, Kevin expressed a great need to void his bladder. I reached up to his take-out cup, lifted the lid, and insinuated a porta-potty use for said cup. He looked at me with disdain and proclaimed, "You should stop talking. Seriously, Mom. You should take a vow of silence. I bet you can't do it for even 10 minutes."

I proved him wrong by 50 minutes. A complete HOUR of silence. Not only I, but the radio as well. Insanity for Kevin was soon to surface. He found the quiet, uh, disagreeable. Begging ensued. "Please talk, Mom. Please. You can break your vow of silence. You are driving me crazy. Talk to me!!!"

My son had no idea just how strong-willed his mother could be. For a very long hour, I became the Mrs. Hyde to my usual Dr. Jekyll persona.

Now, lest you think me the world's meanest mom either for not letting my baby sleep in peace on our Texas trek or for the 6o minutes of white noise, let me just share a couple of quotes with you about my precious boy:

From one of our church shepherds to my son:
"You're worse than having a tick in your navel!"

From a sweet girl Kevin knows from his drama class:
"I didn't believe in hitting people until I met you!"

He's a pest . . . make that Pest. Capital P. So, I took great delight in returning the favor on behalf of everyone he has ever annoyed. (Ahhh . . . I can almost hear the applause rising from all of you who know him.)

5 comments:

NinjaPrincess said...

I'm looking forward to the day my kids are old enough to pester. Of course, I could do it now, but then they'd cry. That would kind of take the fun out of it.

Ashlea Smiley said...

don't forget the ear flicking.

HW said...

So, once you actually stop talking to them, they actually WANT you to talk to them again?
I'm going to try that...

Thanks for stopping by my blog. I look forward to catching up on your posts.

janjanmom said...

AWESOME!! I don't think I could do it, but it would definitely disturb my children!!

You do the mom-world proud!

Anonymous said...

Nice job, Thanks