*Yeah, but if it does make me look fat, I hope it’s all in my rear end. I think it rather tends to resemble a pancake. Which I find undesirable.
My 12-year-old, Christopher, is such a reliable, sweet, soul. He has been so reliable, sweet, kind, and kind while taking care of me.
I tell him all the time he is ‘My Rock’ and that I don’t know what I would do without him.
In fact, as he was crawling into my bed tonight to watch a movie with his mama and the new puppy, he brought me some apple juice that I mightily wanted but hadn’t asked him to bring me I looked over at him and said, “I thought you might be thirsty.” I replied, “Awe, thanks! You are one cool rock.”
He looked confused so I explained that since I tell him and everyone else that he was my rock and I couldn’t get along without him, I thought I would just call him “Rock” and keep it short.
“OOOOhhhh….that’s a good idea! Scoot over a little bit “Land”.
“LAND??!!! YOU KNICKNAMED ME “LAND”??? ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME THAT I LOOK FAT!!!!!?????!!!”
blink. blink. blink.
Christopher looked totally and completely mystified and baffled.
“Wait…what?! I never said that you looked fat!”
“Don’t worry, son…I am just trying to prepare you for about 4-years from now for when you start dating. Because girls have a way of somehow having the ability to turn every conversation, statement and question about if they are fat or not. I am just trying to prepare you. It’s my job. I’m you’re mom”
“OH. Ok. Thanks for looking out for me. But can you do you one more thing for me?”
“Scoot over and start the movies. I’m tired of talking about girls. I’m only 12, you know. I can only take so much.”