Little Baby Jesus

Please help me have the patience you obviously thought i possessed at one point to be the mother of this child. My son is driving me IN-SAYN-uh. .. that’s absolute annunciation with a twinge of frustration at the end to further prove the point.

I swear he is a sweet kid. I’ve seen it. With my own eyeballs. He can be charming and polite and sweet and concerned and caring.

And then there’s the other 85% of the time he’s awake.

I swear this child was born to be a grown up. Since he could talk he’s been uttering things and spewing backtalk and ideas that make me believe he’s a jaded, chain-smoking, horn rimmed glasses wearing 28 year old college professor. One who cannot grasp the concept of a ‘why did the chicken cross the road’ joke.

His birthday is coming up and at what point do i withhold birthday gifts to prove a point? I’m ready. We haven’t sent out the invites yet. I’m considering putting on there RSVP so i know how to reach you in case he back talks his way out of this whole shindig.

I know I shouldn’t get sucked into a debate with this boy. I know it. But at the same time i know i can’t let him sarcastically talk back to me and not have a consequence for it.

And if he corrects me one more time, i may practice a choke hold on him.

But oh yes, how i love thee. Let me count the ways!

I love you when you are asleep.
I love you when you are so tired your eyes glaze over and you can’t seem to find any words.
I love you when you are eating something scrumptious enough to close your mouth around every bite so as not to let anything escape.
I love you when you are working really hard to earn something.
I love you when you are sleeping, and i love you when you are asleep in your bed. …
and when you sleep.


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