I’m beginning to believe my middle son and I are twins separated by twenty-three years. He is completely me when I was his age, but in a more boyish appearance. We talk the same. We’re clumsy the same. We even think the same. Speaking of how we think alike–when I was his age, my mother thought I was mentally challenged and I even remember the day she took me to the hospital to have me tested. After all those wires were stuck to my head, the long breathing exercises, and the mundane questioning, my mother got the sad news that I was normal (but hey, I got to take home a butt-load of drawing paper…er brain scan results). I figure it’s the same way with my middle son–so what if he looks like this:
He knows what a rhombus is.
Actually, I better go look rhombus up right now. Forget about if I’m smarter than a fifth grader–I’m not even smarter than my Kindergartner.
Must have been those shock treatments thumps on the head.
(Okay, that last part was a joke. Well the shock treatment part that is.)
Yesterday after school, my middle son lost his very second tooth. His very first tooth he lost at school and we never found it because he put it under his chair, and, being the Mom of the Year that I am, I didn’t notice the missing tooth in his mouth for three whole days. Now, I didn’t actually see him lose his second tooth either since my husband had to yank it out with string. I don’t do forced pain infliction. I had to leave the room. Which reminds me how much I hate it when I take my kids to the pediatrician and the nurses tell me to hold my son down while they poke him with a needle or some other tortuous device. Are you kidding me? Why do they even suggest I help them do that? It’s their job after all. I’d rather sit in the waiting room thankyouverymuch.
Unfortunately, once the tooth came out we also realized my son’s permanent tooth is already halfway in and too far behind where it was supposed to be. So my kid has my crooked teeth also.
I guess the crooked teeth dilemma could be his trademark smile like me. We should patent the look.
Or I could just use Photoshop like what I did with me and Miss Dallas.
Before
After (check out that waist and teeth of mine!)
Beats the cost of braces.
PS: All this crooked teeth talk has me thinking of that one scene in Blue Streak:
PPS: My middle son asked if the Tooth Fairy could bring him a candybar instead of money under his pillow last night. That’s my boy. And yes there was a Snickers waiting for him in the morning. I’m not helping the whole teeth thing am I?
PPPS: I still think Miss Dallas and I are sisters.
