Hi! My name is Melissa and SOMETIMES I may be a dysfunctional parent. Is there a group or Two-Step Program for people like me? Oh and Dude. We are one flesh!
We forget to put money under the kids' pillows when they lose teeth. We spell words in front of the kids only to have the kids figure the word out before we do.
And... last year I forgot to hide the toys from our seven-year-old Kojak, before Christmas. This is why we got a note from his teacher a few weeks ago asking us to talk with him because he went to school telling his peers that Santa didn't exist and neither did his horses.
We could not figure out why he did that. I just prayed that none of the kids went home crying to their parents about Santa. So we doned our Huxtable hats and had a
chat with him. We didn't get far when he blurted out, "Mama! I saw Rex in your closet on Christmas Eve! Right beside the snowman wrapping paper!"
Dude shook his head.
So we have had these back-and-forth conversations with him recently. We didn't want him going Malcolm X on any other kids and try, by any means necessary, to convince them that Santa was not real.
We weren't quite sure how he was feeling about Santa in the last few days. Until we found a letter tonight:
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Friday, December 24, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Going Too Far!
Our son is so protective and territorial when it comes to me... his favorite Mommy! Of course his only one but "favorite" has a great ring to it. (Picture me with a smile, sunglasses and feet up as I reflect on this) Back to the blog.
He would do anything for me. Except... protect me from the Chick-fil-A cow. If you've followed the blogs you know the history of that character and Chuck-E-Cheese. Oh, and Mickey Mouse, and the vertically-challenged man from our church who dressed up like a cell phone during Fall Fest, complete with ashy knees. Our son finished his cotton candy under one of the tables that year. Basically he is fearful of anyone dressed in a costume. I try to convince him that "God doesn't give him the spirit of fear" but his consistent response is, "Well Mommy somebody gave it to me bad!"
Not only does he try to be protective but he is territorial.
We were relaxed, watching a movie when he said, "Daddy. I knew Mommy before you."
I grinned a bit but just passed it off. I mean Dude and I know better. No need to reply right?
Well...
Dude replied.
"Nope. I knew her first buddy."
Our son sat up. Looked at Dude then at me.
I closed my eyes and held my breath in anticipation for what the little seven-year-old was about to say.
"No. I knew her first Daddy," pointing at my stomach, "I was in that tummy!"
Dude peered at me. "Will you tell him?"
I pressed my lips together.
"First I was in her tummy then I grew (talking with his hands) and grew until I was ready to come outta there and see Mommy!"
He smiled and sat back as if he had won the round.
Dude sat up and came back with, "I helped get you here!"
He was confused. "Uh, Mommy how did Daddy help me get here?"
Again... I closed my eyes.
He would do anything for me. Except... protect me from the Chick-fil-A cow. If you've followed the blogs you know the history of that character and Chuck-E-Cheese. Oh, and Mickey Mouse, and the vertically-challenged man from our church who dressed up like a cell phone during Fall Fest, complete with ashy knees. Our son finished his cotton candy under one of the tables that year. Basically he is fearful of anyone dressed in a costume. I try to convince him that "God doesn't give him the spirit of fear" but his consistent response is, "Well Mommy somebody gave it to me bad!"
Not only does he try to be protective but he is territorial.
We were relaxed, watching a movie when he said, "Daddy. I knew Mommy before you."
I grinned a bit but just passed it off. I mean Dude and I know better. No need to reply right?
Well...
Dude replied.
"Nope. I knew her first buddy."
Our son sat up. Looked at Dude then at me.
I closed my eyes and held my breath in anticipation for what the little seven-year-old was about to say.
"No. I knew her first Daddy," pointing at my stomach, "I was in that tummy!"
Dude peered at me. "Will you tell him?"
I pressed my lips together.
"First I was in her tummy then I grew (talking with his hands) and grew until I was ready to come outta there and see Mommy!"
He smiled and sat back as if he had won the round.
Dude sat up and came back with, "I helped get you here!"
He was confused. "Uh, Mommy how did Daddy help me get here?"
Again... I closed my eyes.
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