As a busy weekend winds down, it was kind of an easy night in our house
Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner is out fighting crime.
Dubya works on his homework.
Moo Cow throws a shit fit to avoid her bath, tell me: I NOT STANK, MOM! YOU STANK!
And after wrestling Stank Cow into the tub, I sort out Dubya’s backpack. It is his responsibility to clean out his backpack, empty his lunchbox, return library books, but every week I spot check his work and make sure he is doing what needs to be done.
The only surprise I have found is a collection of about eight spoons that he wasn’t putting in the sink. Today, though, I found a happy, sweet surprise.
He made a little booklet that says:
I am Dubya. I am 7. I play baseball. I have a three year old sister. She is pretty. I love her. She is awesome. I will protect her.
Immediately, my momma heart swells with pride. He and Moo had a rough day. Lots of fighting, pestering, poking, prodding. At one point, he had her in tears because he told her I had abandoned her and was never coming back. This little booklet though, it makes me happy. HUGE. HAPPY. MOMMA. MOMENT.
And then I find this:
My proud momma heart is gripped with terror. What is this filth? Why is my son coloring this filth? Have I missed some diabolical warning signs about my son? I calmly ask, “Dubya, WHY ARE YOU COLORING THE FLAG OF NAZI GERMANY?
I turn the page and find this:
It reads “I don’t know if Hitler is a terrorist. But I do know that he is a really bad guy.”
His answer was that he was reading about Nazi Germany in a book and was writing out his thoughts. Once my heart stopped racing, I did recall that he has had a thing for flags lately. He is constantly drawing flags, making up new and improved flags for the United States, trying to design a flag for the House of McD, etc.
So here is the take-a-way from this:
1. My kid isn’t the future leader of a Neo Nazi terror cell.
2. If this is what he is thinking about at seven, I am in for some profound conversations with this kid.
3. He is going to give me heart palpitations.