I leave for one week, and my son turns into a twelve-year-old.

Henry: My shoe feels funny.

Me: Do you want to take it off?

Henry (sighing): I'll live.

*

Henry (sniffling): I'm not going to camp anymore. I'm staying in bed until I'm ten.

Me: Let's discuss that tomorrow, shall we?

Henry: Tomorrow I'm going to remember this crying fit. And I’m going to remind you that we agreed I could stay in bed.

Me: Good night.

Henry: Until I'm TEN.

*

Henry's friend Sofia: (nonsensical babbling about something or other)

Henry: What?

Sofia: I know, right?

Henry: I didn't say "WHA??!!!", I said "what."

Communication breakdown.

What we said: Time to get dressed!

What he heard: Tell us that story again. The one with no real ending.

What we said: Okay, really, it's time to get dressed.

What he heard: How slowly can you slide one foot into a pantleg?

What we said: GET. DRESSED.

What he heard: Whoa, mister, where's the fire? Surely you can zone out for a few minutes while your head is still inside your shirt.

What we said: Okay, I'm leaving the room now because otherwise I'm going to scream.

What he heard: Chase after me! Chase after me and be sure to make robot noises! Also, don't zip up your pants first, so that they fall down around your ankles. I love that.

What we said: So how was school today?

What he heard: GIVE ME YOUR SOUL.

What we said: I don't need details, I just wanted to know if you had a good day.

What he heard: DELICIOUS SOUL. I WILL EAT IT AND LEAVE NONE FOR YOU. NOM NOM.

What we said: I can tell by the shrieking that you don't want to tell me about your day, so let's move on.

What he heard: Truly, sir, you have defeated me. I tip my hat to you.

What we said: You can watch one show.

What he heard: You can watch at least one show.

What we said: No, one show. One. That's it.

What he heard: I'm sure a little whining could convince me otherwise.

What we said: That sound coming out of your mouth is not changing my mind.

What he heard: I'm beginning to see your point.

What we said: Or we could have no television for the rest of the week.

What he heard: Which leaves me more time for grilling you about school. I will get that soul if it's the last thing I do. BWA HA HA.

Why, hello there.

I know, I know, when will she update and get something up that's not that uplifting slice-of-life crap, SHEESH. When most of the comments are "Awwww," I know there's a backlash brewing somewhere, a portion of my readership that's retching into their cupped hands.

He's just so cute these days, damn it. A while back I told Henry that I have a terrible problem because all I want to do is hug him, and he told me, "That's not a problem, it's love." Now all I have to do is give him a look and say "Henry" in a plaintive voice, and he says, "Moo-oom, it's just love, don't worry about it." I can't stand it! So cute! A wuzza wuzza!

Okay, I'll stop, okay. But seriously, nothing's going on over here. I'm trying to write this book thing, which means I'm hiding under my desk and rocking back and forth, forth and back. It goes on like that for hours. If I'm sucking my thumb, I won't admit to it, but anyway I certainly am not.

Here's something! The May issue of Wondertime is out, and it contains my essay, which you can see here on their website. The print article has all the cute pictures of Henry and Scott, whereas the web version just has the one picture of me, in which I'm wearing cinnamon buns and looking like something smells terrible. Since the picture was taken in our kitchen, this is more than possible.

A good morning.

He ate both waffles.

He examined his sticky fingers and said, "I need to wash up."

He wanted to brush his teeth and wash without me, as a surprise.

"When I come out, you say, 'How did your teeth get so white?' and 'How did your hands get so clean'?"

He forgot that he needs my help squeezing the toothpaste. I came in, for a second. I had to pretend I didn't do that.

He jumped out of the bathroom and did jazz hands at me.

He stood on my bed, carefully brushing his hair, while I got dressed, and explained to me how he likes his hair done.

"You have to have your hair off your forehead, so you can look beautiful," he explained.

He brushed my hair. "You have a big forehead so it's easy for you to look beautiful."

Then he said he was going to show his Dad how beautiful he looked, and he ran downstairs.