The hunt for the mark continues…or all about Nathaniel

For whatever reason, I love to hear my kids mispronounce things. I try to teach them tongue twisters, I let them listen to songs like “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” and then I just throw words at them that I know they’ll mangle. We laugh ourselves silly because the more they laugh the worse it gets…and then we laugh some more. On our way back from the Children’s Cancer Center this week we got on the kick where I told them cancer terms, names of different types, medications, yada yada yada….and Nathaniel just stared at me like I was making this stuff on the fly…like I could just pull the word Rabdomyosarcoma out of my hat.

I finally gave up, he decided I was terminally insane and we let it go at that.

I don’t even remember how we got on the subject or why I was throwing spelling words at him….I mean, it is summer after all…but I told him to spell Chrysanthemum.

“Stop throwing those cancer words at me, Mom!”

“It’s a flower, Nathaniel.”

“Well…whatever…little words, Mom…little ones….stop showing off.”

I would also like to let everyone know that DAILY Nathaniel checks his armpit for the MARK OF MANHOOD. Every time we get in the truck he pops down the vanity mirror, pulls up his shirt and inspects for a random stray hair…heaven forbid there be a dog hair stuck to the inside of his shirt one day, I’m sure he’ll demand the car keys and an apartment. I’m tempted to glue some scrap pieces of yarn to his pit and see what happens when he wakes up one day. Pete and I have even tossed around the idea of just using a Sharpie to draw in some armpit hairs so he’ll let it go.

For this I shared my body for 9 months. I love being a parent.

f.r.o.G.
–Anissa