Noodle Boy is a nickname my son had when he was a tiny guy and I started this blog. His nickname changes all the time. (Don't worry, we keep his real name the same.) He is completely awesome. Read on and see for yourself!

Monday, July 6, 2009

ats.


Lately Jon has enjoyed putting things on his head that are clearly not hats and pretending that they are. It was really cute for a while, especially since he can't pronounce the letter "h" at the beginning of a word. "At, mama, at." Shoes were "ats", toys were "ats", pillows were "ats". Then he started doing it at the table and the cuteness screeched to a halt when he thought spaghetti was a "at". So we had a talk about how food and silverware were not "ats" and they belonged on a plate or in his mouth, not on his head. Food and silverware are not "ats".
With exception of tacos, evidently.
We were out to eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant and Jon was being the Mr. Hyde version of himself that always seems to make its way out when we're in public. After throwing all the silverware on the floor, dumping a glass of water and loudly proclaiming "MINE!!!!" when the waitress tried to take the menus back, our food arrived. Jon's was only luke warm, not "ot" so he got to dig right in. They always make his first so it cools and he can eat it right away. I think they do that so we can feed our demon spawn and get the hell out of there faster.
After about two bites he decided that maybe eating a taco was too last season and thought it would be more fashionable to try it as a hat. Orange grease was everywhere! Running down his arms and the sides of his head, ground beef crumbling down on his shoulders. I could have killed him. But being the super in-control mom that I am I kept it together and calmy told him that he was getting food everywhere, that he was being gross and to knock it off. Yeah, like that worked. So I yanked the taco out of his hands and (in a not very motherly tone) said, "I don't care how many tacos you put on your head you're not getting another bath today!" There's a sentence I never thought I'd say. By this point people are staring, smiling uncomfortably at the horrible mother who not only lets her child substitute tacos for sombreros but also refuses to bathe him regularly. Nice. I'm sure they thought I was going to take him home and let the dog lick him off before I put him to bed with a sippy cup full of Diet Sprite.
We left. Jon got a bath. I ate a soggy reheated chimichanga after he went to bed.

1 comment:

Kasey aka Captain Awesome said...

"Stop being gross" is the best advice anyone could ever hope for from a mom.
Also, I think it's better when I hear a mom say things like "I'm not giving you a bath" than when they talk to their 2 year olds as if they are 40 year olds undergoing psychoanalysis.