Otherwise known by such terms of affection as "Bane of My Existence," "Beast from the Netherhells," and "Barnacle Boy," my son has grown (and grown) into a bundle of contradictions. At times he displays the boundless energy of a puppy, and at others an aloof "I'm-way-too-cool-for-this-party" kind of detachment. He will be 15 this month [!!!]. Sometimes I watch him as he and his friends walk along with their arms and legs all long and angular and awkward. They remind me of a young pack of Timber Wolves: they don't walk, they lope.
I suppose I should have known what sort of challenge I was in for when, at four or five years old, we were having a conversation like this:
Me: "Oh, you are such a pill!"
Him: "Am I a red pill or a blue pill?"
Recently, he has been fascinated, yea, even obsessed, with vampires. He says he wants to be a vampire. I said to him, "Why would you want to be a vampire? You would be living off of other humans. You would be the Destroyer." He replied without batting an eye, "Mom, aren't normal humans the Destroyers?" Point.
But my secret weapon is still language. And it will be awhile before he can catch up. The other day we were eating a sweet snack in the mall, and he said to me rather pointedly, "Isn't this kind of fattening?"
I went immediately into mock offended tone. "So what are you saying? Are you saying I'm fat?"
"No! No! You're not fat!" [backpedal, backpedal, backpedal]
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, um, you're... a cute plump!"
"Acute plump? What is that? Some kind of condition? It sounds like I'm afflicted with plump, like acute pneumonia!"
"No! No! A... cute... plump. Two words! Two words!"
I let him sweat it out. Yes, any future partner of his will have me to thank for his having just the right amount of mild neurosis. My work here is done.
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