Thursday, December 15, 2005

My son, the snowman murderer.


Funny thing about Christmas. The closer it gets, the more awful my son becomes.

Is it really supposed to work that way? You'd think that with a visit from Santa looming over his head, that he would be a bit more careful about keeping himself in check.

Not yesterday though. Yesterday he was so awful, that he murdered our snowman.

I guess it all started when I got home from dropping him off at the bus stop in the morning. I was FREEZING my ass off. As I began to walk into the house, I realized that part of my problem was likely because the snowman was wearing MY hat and scarf, despite the fact that I had already taken it back once.

So once again, I stole it back and brought it inside to dry, and put it in a safe place where a certain little boy wouldn't find it and put it BACK on the snowman.

Fast forward to 3:00 pm, when I picked my adorable son up from the bus, and he got up the walkway and realized that I had taken my hat back. This did not go over well.

He cried. He screamed. I was like, "what the hell?" Apparently, he decided that by removing the hat, that I was going to hurt the snowman, and when I wouldn't back down, my son decided that he was going to get even with me, and proceeded to go outside and stomp the hell outta poor Frosty. I'd post a post-mortem picture of the poor fellow, but the pictures are just too disturbing for public view.

And I suppose I'm bad too. I'm an accomplice in this whole thing, because I didn't do a dang thing to stop Sebastian. I really didn't think he would go out there and kill his pride and joy, and then figured that if he was actually stupid enough to, then he was going to learn real fast that the only person he was really going to hurt was himself.

He stomped back inside, threw my scarf at me, and said "THERE!! I hope you're happy! Frosty is DEAD!!" I kinda shrugged and said "Well, it wasn't my snowman, it was yours. Do you feel better now?" Which is when he burst into tears, realizing what he had done.

Then let's move on to the Christmas decoration. After frosty bit the big one, I went through Sebastian's back pack and found a lovely bag, that said "To Mom from Sebastiano". It was decorated with snowflakes and a snowman, and closed with a garland wire. I tried to explain to him that it was a present and that we should wait until Christmas before I opened it, but he was so excited that he took it upon himself to open it.

Inside was an adorable snowflake, made out of popsicle sticks and decorated with beads and sparkles, with Sebastian's picture right smack in the middle. I thought it was great...and so did Sebastiano, because he took this time to explain to me that since HIS picture was on it, that it was HIS decoration and not mine, and that he was keeping it. More screaming and crying, and the whole time this is going on, I'm wondering who the hell this kid is that I picked up from the bus stop, because he sure the heck isn't acting like MINE.

It's days like that, that make me stop and wonder why the hell I'm so desperate to have just one more baby. I mean, I must really have a screw loose somewhere, because all it takes is for him to come up to me, cuddle up and tell me that he loves me, and I forget about everything else, even if he's only telling me he loves me because he wants Doritos.

He was up all night coughing and hacking, so maybe all this temper tantrum business is from him being sick again. I swear to god that I'm going to go down to that school and beat the crud out of someone until I feel better about how sick my kid has been and about how much school he's lost, because this is getting a bit ridiculous.

On a side note, he's going to the doctor today. Is it wrong of me to hope that charma will kick in, and maybe the little bugger will get a shot?

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