Girl Talk

Tonight I had a heart to heart with my 7 year old son, consisting of girl talk. The kind of girl talk where I ask him who he thinks is pretty…yadda yadda. The answer I received tonight warmed my heart and made me so proud, with a big side of the giggles.

Me: Do you have a gf?
J:No! but armando has like six!
Me:Oh? Do they kiss?
J:No!!
Me: Have you asked anybody to be your girlfriend?
J:No!!
Me: Why not?
J:Cause!! I’m not gonna have a girlfriend until I’m in college! Or have a job!
Me:How come?
J:Cause! I’m not gonna be like Armando and having to keep that many girls happy. I’d rather just have good grades and play sports.

Ahahhahahahhhah! 7 years old and he already has relationships figured out fundamentally. I’ve done well on that one.

What I AM concerned about is why Armando feels the need to hoard all the second grade girls. I guess I didn’t realize they taught “The Art of Pimping” this early. More importantly, do these girls know about Latino men already? I mean, I’m thinking that “sharing” has been very well instilled in our young, a little too well….then again, maybe not well enough, in Armando’s case.

When did it become playground acceptable to have more than one girlfriend/boyfriend? Let’s not forget that getting to second base probably means just that, since they probably couldn’t comprehend the analogy to much more than a game of kickball. I am just floored by this bit of information tonight and I’m not sure what to think of it. I do know that I am uber-proud of my boy and the priorities he has set for himself. Though in a few years, I’m sure the little LadyKiller will have rearranged his.

Care to weigh in?

I heart Corn Dogs

Yes, it’s capitalized.

Normally when I get a phone call or text message from my mother, I can’t help but to feel bothered. Irrationally bothered. I know it’s a little normal to think “Ohhhhgawd! Mom! C’mon!” But I act like a busy executive being interrupted, when she is merely interrupting my all-important couch lounging. I snap at her for the simplest questions. Very irrational, and I admit it. I have a problem. But last night was so totally different. “Wanna drunk?” she asks. “Yes.” I reply. “And can you grab me some tortillas? J wants quesadillas.”  Nice and easy enough. It was 5:30, I would have them fed and bathed and all snuggled up by 8:00.

TWO HOURS LATER!

I’m fuming because I have only one hour until my children need to be in bed and I haven’t fed them. She rolls up and saunters in as if nothing is amiss (Her time schedule is a little askew, always has been). And just as I am about to flip out on her the way only I can, she soothes me by pulling out a box like a dog trainer would pull out a juicy, meaty, blood-dripping prime rib bone.  Corrrrn Dogs! I drooled a puddle. I lost all track of her lost time and forgave her without saying a word.

You see, I longed for Corn Dog day at school. I would make my way to the front of the line as quickly as possible in order to get those two scrumptious, cornmeal-slathered pork sticks, gobble them up, then get back in line and take whoever’s name wasn’t there that day in order to get my second helping. Yes, it may have been a little unethical, but I love the crunchy nibblet at the end. That had to be my favorite part. Or the way the corn batter would stick to the roof of my mouth, completely similar to the bread from a peanut butter and jelly sammich.

So when Brumhilda whipped that box out, I was instantly transported to a time when I didn’t become irate over a delayed dinner. It was then that all was well between mommy and me. So she poured the wine, and I was ok with bathing the kids in the morning.