My 4 year old son, Justin, announced to me tonight that I am a “bad cooker” and the things I cook are “junk” and “yucky”. It’s not like a laid a freakin’ slab of liver in front of the kid, either. I made beef ravioli with marinara sauce. I even let him tell me how much parmesan cheese to put on it. He announced after his first bite that it was “delicious”, but later described the meal as “disgusting”. Someday he’s going to be a starving teenager and I will remind him of this day, probably while handing him a plate of liver.
He is still driving me absolutely bonkers with what can best be described as “excessive Christmas energy”. Even when he sits still, I can see the energy struggling to make its way to the surface. I will be SO glad when Christmas is over. See, that’s how I know I’ve finally turned into an adult. Christmas isn’t something I hope never ends anymore. Christmas is something to be survived. Last year, every single Christmas decoration came down on December 26th. I think the same thing might happen this year, unless I’ve somehow managed to duct tape Justin to the tree itself.
The only thing Justin has asked for from Santa was a Leapster. I must hear ten times a day how he really wants a Leapster, and do I think Santa will bring him one. Tonight I told him I think Santa is bringing one for his little sister instead of him, which apparently wasn’t the answer he was expecting. The look he gave me was priceless.
Justin went to the Holidazzle parade with his cousin Grace and my parents on Wednesday night. They also got to see the holiday display at Macy’s and saw Santa. This was Justin’s second time seeing the big guy. He told Santa that he was asking him for a Leapster again, since he’d been naughty since the last time he’d asked for one. Hey, at least the kid speaks the truth. I’m sure I will like him again on December 26th.