Kids! Mine are better’n’yours! Ha!

Well, they’re funnier, at least. *L* So – today, I spent time running around with AuntieJ and the youngest of her horde, including Miss Diva whom she was babysitting. We ran around town in a very chilly -17 degree weather, and generally had a good time. Especially when Miss Ladybug was given a stuffie for her upcoming birthday, and she and buglet got suckers at the bank. Miss Diva was sleeping at the time, so didn’t get one. Buglet almost didnt get one EITHER but his auntie (that’d be me, for those who lost track *L* ) insisted! And he loved it, as you can plainly see. *g* And doesn’t miss Diva look spectacular in her pink fuzzy coat? We thought so too!

Then. THEN.

I arrive home and soon it’s time for my own Miss Thang’s bus to bring her home. I head the doors open, so go to the front door so they know I’m here [the pup’s ride will not drop the child off unless mom or another qualified adult is home.] and who do I see prancing up along the walk as if she owned the world? Why, none other then the Queen Pup – complete with a bright yellow crown declaring such! But that wasn’t the funny part! She looked up at me and said “I’m not carrying my backkack mom!” and sure enough the driver, a nice and friendly young man whom all the kids adore, is walking right up along the walk behind her, with all her misc. crap in his hands. I say “well, I see that – and why not?” and she just GRINNED, and the DRIVER answered….

“Because she is a QUEEN, and QUEENS do not carry their own bags!”

Blink.
He then hands ME her things, grins real big, waves, and returns to the van and drives off. While I? am simply DYING LAUGHING. Like the pup doesn’t have an OVERINFLATED EGO already! OMFG. She just sashayed herself right on in the house with the BIGGEST shit eating grin on her face. Fuckin priceless, I swear.

Then – proof positive she’s SO my kid? She picks out a movie to watch,and inside all the disney flicks, she choses Van Helsing. Right on. *heh* I’m so proud! *sniff*

One would think the hilarity ended there, no? NO! A few minutes later, the boy comes bursting into the house. He then tells me that he has a dance tonight, and he didn’t ask the girl he wanted too [whom he’s adored since he was 6 months old] because he couldn’t catch her ALONE, instead she always had her gaggle o’girls around her, so he’ll just ask her to dance tonight at the dance.

[insert sound of mommies heart breaking HERE. SOB.]

So I ask him what he’s gonna wear, and we talk about it, and I suggest a different pair of pants and he says. HE SAYS. “Yeah, but mom? these pants equal ‘bad boy!’ and bad boy? equals CHICKS!”

CHICKS! my son called them CHICKS!

And then he says “and I need my gel, because hair down? geek. hair back? i’ma stuuuuuuuuuuuuud muffin!”

omfg. OMFG.

THEN! THEN! I got revenge. “Don’t worry, babe – I’ll get you some cream for that zit when I go to the store.”

“A ZIT? OMG IS THAT WHAT THAT IS? MOM!!!!”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ahem. Chicks always win.