dramatic boy….


“So tell me…how was the bathroom floor last night?” I asked Bay Sunday morning. He smirked,  bore his eyes at me for a moment before sidestepping past me; essentially ignoring my laughter as he exited the room. “What was that about?” my hubby asked. “That was the boy admitting defeat” I exclaimed triumphantly. Confused my husband simply shrugged and we moved on with the day.


For the last two weeks, I’ve been trying to get the boy a haircut. The last time his father took him, the barber shop was so busy they spent an hour waiting.  So long in fact, they both apparently began dying from hunger.  As the result, Dad paid the barber $13 to remove little to no hair. Of course I’m exaggerating here… but considering how bushy he became soon afterward; makes a mom wonder. But I digress. Saturday following the funeral, I looked at my greasy son and announced, “We’re getting you a haircut today…go take a shower”. “But mom that will take forever…” The boy pointed out. “Do you have other, more pressing plans? I asked. “Yes, I planned on doing little to nothing all day but watch and play video games” he explained. Noting the look of seriousness upon his face I replied, “I’m trumping your plans…go take a shower.” “Mom, why must I take a shower? Can’t they just wash the hair there?” he asked. “That’s a valid question bay, except how are we to explain the rest of greasy you? Go. Take. A. Shower!”  I instructed and with no other recourse, he did.


Following the return of my handsome son, once his hair was cut properly (who knew just telling the barber to make him look less bushy results in a good hair cut–hubby wink wink!) as we walked to the car he asked, “Momma, can you take me to Steak and Shake for lunch?” “Uh no.” I replied. “Wha…? But I just got my hair cut…” He replied. “What are you two? You need a reward? I would think the haircut is the reward here” I explained.  When we arrived home he marched into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator for a moment, looked inside and then declared, “We have nothing here to eat!” “True…if you’re looking for greasy food, you’re right, there is no food here. If you’re looking for good nutritious food…” “MOM!!” “Bay, why not look at the large selection of healthy choice meals we have in the basement…surely one of them will taste good to you” I came back. “NO!! Those are horrible!!” He declared, ramping up his anger. “You know-because you’ve eaten one before?” I asked. “No, because I’ve smelled one before!” He answered.

In the meantime his father walked into the kitchen as the boy’s voice rose in an attempt to drown out my replies. “Boy, why don’t you at least take a look…” His father offered. “Because they all smell like crap!!” the boy yelled. “You have such a discerning nose too” I began, “If the grease smell at BK or MCD’s is telling you that’s good food…then something is wrong with your schnaz dude…” I replied. “MOM!! You’re trying to kill me!!” Looking back at his dad I smirked. Tired of his crap I replied “I’ve been arguing with you over this same issue since you were two years old! I am done arguing with you. Either you give this healthy food a try or you starve. You’re choice!”

That’s when the bargaining began. “What if I eat an apple and some grapes?” “You’re on the right track, but that won’t cut it. You need a balanced meal-not just one with sweets…” I replied. “MOM You’re not being fair!!” He replied. Applying one of the many standard mom replies I said,  “Bay, when you pay for the food you can eat all the crap you want. Until then…” Seeing I meant business, he relented. Looking upon his food choices, he took the one food that looked the least healthy in his eyes, “Chicken Pasta Pesto with spinach, zucchini and squash”. Four minutes later, I placed his meal in front of him and said, “Enjoy”.

When the bay was younger and forced to eat food he was dead set against eating, he would employ his gag reflex and throw up all over the kitchen table-infuriating his father and I. Thank goodness he’s outgrown that method of driving his parents insane. After the first bite he announced, “It just burned the hell out of my tongue!! It’s too damned hot!!” “Well that’s good right? Then you won’t be able to complain about the taste if our tongue is burned right?” I replied.  Though the boy was not amused, he did eventually eat the entire meal.


Later the boy approached me and in a hurt voice said, “I’ll have you know, I have a stomach ache now.” We were out for a walk at one of our favorite parks. “I’m sorry to hear that bay…” I replied, not really caring much about his “imaginary” ailment. “In fact, I think I’ll be sleeping on the floor of the bathroom tonight–you know, to be close to the toilet.” He explained. “I see…why?” “Because of that green(spinach) stuff you made me eat in that meal!! I can actually feel it wrapping around my intestines and causing the pain I’m experiencing”. “Bay, don’t you think you’re being a tad too dramatic here?” I asked trying not to laugh. “You won’t be laughing when I’m throwing up or having the runs all night!” He announced before turning and walking away from me.

Actually, I’ll sleep like a baby… I thought as he walked away.






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