enough already!

Dude, seriously! The baby this and the baby that, I can't even stand to listen to myself talk anymore. So I have dedicated today to a post completely cute-baby free. A sophisticated, grown up post.

Let's talk about my T (thought you were off the kid-hook for a sec there, didn't yah? Bitch, please!) My T, who just this very morning stood at the top of the stairs sporting nothing but his Superman tightey-whiteys and with more than a little grandeur, holla'd, "TXU in the hiz-zouse!" I kid you not. He really did. My TXU. Did I ever tell you he changed his name in preschool to TXU? He thought an X would be cool in his name, so that's what he decided on. It has not waivered since. My T, the man who just switched to tightey-whiteys after 4 years as a boxer-man because, well, he couldn't manage to keep his little willy straight in his pants the way he liked. "Mom, my PENIS won't stay PUT!" (Which is fine conversation at home, maybe not so fine in the middle of the mall.) My poor little middle child, who has not made a friend of his own yet, but goes out every single day anyway and tries so hard to play with this group of kids who are all way older than him and totally pick on him but let him hang around because he has really cool toys.* My boy, who yesterday was at a kids house playing, walked up to kids mom and said, "I'm really hungry." She asked what his mom was making for dinner and he said, "Oh, stuff. I guess. Can't you give me a CARROT or something?" She said sure. He instructed her on how to use that thing to take the peels off the carrot. He told her not to chop it up. "I just want a normal, big carrot", he said. Then he said thanks, ma'am, and went back to playing. She thought this was the single funniest conversation she had all year. T, who won over the president of the PTA 2 years ago by coming up to her during a playdate with her son and for no apparent reason at all said, "Ms. Michele, I lo-ve your slippers". And then he walked away, back to playing. She would buy him a pony or the moon if he asked. My TXU, who sang along to Ghetto Bastard with me this morning, who really REALLY wants to be allowed to say the F word and likes to tell me every word he knows that rhymes with it.

He will be the kid who catches the crawfish, pisses off the crawfish, and then drops the salamander in the jar just to see the pissed-off crawfish rip it to shreds. He will feed seagulls Alka-Seltzer, he will huff Sharpies, he will knock up your daughter. And he will crack you up while he does it.

I love this kid. Today, while B played Runescape (my 8 year old, playing MMORPG'S - yep, that's a story for another day) I got to teach my little dude how to play hockey. And I think he actually got it, at least he got the whole holding-the-stick bit. Damn, that kid has an arm. An arm and a damn fine eye. You will see him in the N something L someday. He kept yelling out to me, "Mom! See! I AM a Canadian! I am!" My neighbors hung their heads. I couldn't have been more proud.

*see post below for source of said toys