Two days ago, I received a phone call from my mother that almost caused me to have a heart attack at work.
She was laughing so hard on the phone I thought she was crying. This happens all the time, when she calls. She'll call to tell me something funny, and she'll be laughing on the phone before she can even say hello back to me, and right away, I think of the worst possible scenario. And it's not because I've been watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds; it's because I worry about everything all.the.time.
Once I realised that no one I loved was in grave danger, I relaxed.
"Dimitry got his first time-out!" she said to me, laughing.
My reaction? "Oh, my poor baby!"
Followed by: "Oh! My poor baby! Hahahahahahaha!"
I couldn't stop laughing at the thought of my child in a time-out. See, we've had it really good so far—our oldest son is the most attentive, most well-behaved child ever in the classroom. Last month, he received the Star of the Month for his school, for being kind to others. The words of praise I hear from his teachers make me feel proud, and I realise that I must be doing something right. My oldest son won't be spending too much time in detention when he's older, I'm sure of it.
However... I have a feeling I'll be on the receiving end of many phone calls from the principal's office when my youngest son is older.
Seems my baby and I are cut from the same cloth. I spent many a lunch break in the principal's office in high school.
"Loukia, you're late again?" my principal would sigh, as I would take my seat in front of him.
"I can explain, though!" I'd always start. "I didn't have any gel for my hair so I ran to the corner store to get some. That's why I was late."
Don't get me wrong—my baby is the sweetest child. He is most definitely a mamma's boy. He loves to snuggle with me, and he always falls asleep with his arms wrapped around my neck. He is caring, observant, and oh-so-smart. He's fiercely independent; he basically toiled trained himself. He's also very determined.
During his Monday morning playgroup, he apparently told his teacher to shut-up because he was not happy with what she was saying to him. (If you ask him, though, he'll say he got a time out because he dropped something.) He sat quietly during his time out, and rejoined the group when it was time.
"It was only for two mikins, mommy," he said to me when I talked to him on the phone.
When I got home from work, I gave him a kiss and a hug and sat him down and explained to him that he can't say that word to his teacher—or to anyone, really—again. I told him it wasn't nice, and that his teacher is a very good person, who does a good job taking care of him.
After we had our little talk, I started laughing again. The idea of my little dude in a time out still brings a smile to my face. Even when he's in trouble, I find him simply irresistible!
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