The Abuse Continues

My boys are going to the dark side. More and more they act like their father, talk like their father, throw temper tantrums like their father, and want to do things with their dad more often than me.

The other night I was tucking our youngest to bed, smoothing his hair with tickly mommy fingers, straightening the covers and that sort of usual nite-nite stuff.

Frequently he will hug my arm to his chest and nuzzle my hand with his face and say, "Stay, Mommy." It's so cute and heartmelting.

But this latest night was different. He looked up and me and said, "Daddy read me story."

"You want Daddy to read you a story?"

He nodded, "You go get him."

"Oh. Okay, sure. Will you love me forever then?"

He nodded and said, "Yes, just go."

"Oh, you want Daddy right now?"

"You just go. Get me Daddy. Him read me story right now."

His dad doesn't actually read him books. He tells really cute stories about various super heroes knocking on our front door and asking if Tristan can come out and do good deeds to save the world. It's very entertaining and they only last a few minutes long and Tristan will make him tell about eight of them in a row and then cries like the world is ending when he stops.

* * *

However, while Dad is fun, mom is the one they generally come to when they are upset or want some snuggling and loving up.

Last night I had a dream that a big race horse was in bed with me trying to eat my chicken noodle soup. When I woke up at 4:44AM I realized what I thought was a large soup-slurping thoroughbred was actually two boys -- one at my side pushing me to the edge of the bed, one at the end of the bed knocking my feet off so that I was only touching the bed from the knees up and with one arm dangling over the side.

As I lay there trying to figure out if I should kick them all out, move to the couch or just get up and do something productive I realized that Tristan had managed to wet the bed through his overnight pants. All over me. Not his DAD who is the fun one, but all over his mom and mom's side of the bed.  And then after I cleaned everything up had the nerve to ask me for a drink before going back to bed.

My response was, "I don't think so." And then I realized being only two he probably doesn't really get the art of snarkiness.  Although, I'm in no big hurry because once they figure it out then they start using it on you in retaliation.

I'm rethinking my mom's whole fly swatter thing.