Sh#t My Son Says

(Post and photos and drawing, copyright 2011, Dawn Weber)

My son: Adorable second grader. Baseball player. Pokemon fan. Straight A student.

And professional con artist.

Someday, he'll make a great attorney...or comedian...or car salesman.

Then again, those careers? Essentially the same thing.

I know he's clever because of the things he says and writes. The boy is very adept at arguing his opinion, using logic that gets him exactly what he wants.

Case in point: Tucking him into his bunk a few months ago, I noticed a boxy shape in his pocket. He'd already logged eleventy billion hours of video game play that day, and he knows bedtime is for sleeping, not games.

Still. He thought he'd give it a shot.

"Son. Is that a Game Boy in your pocket? Or are you happy to see me?" I said.
"Oh man!" he said.
Head hanging, crestfallen...
...and busted.
"Hand it over. Also, you're grounded off of video games for three days," I said.
"What?! Aww, Mom!" he said.

Oh - the drama! The whiny protests and promises! They followed me all the way downstairs.

The next morning, he walked to my bedside and handed me a letter. He called it a letter anyway. I call it Felon Logic:

 Genius defense, no? He was the envy of convicted criminals everywhere. He was also still grounded.

A few months later, he was kind enough to leave us another note when he failed to finish his lunch. Such a thoughtful boy:

Really son? Did it make your belly hurt? Or did you have a brand new video game to get back to on the T.V.?

His capabilities extend into the spy arena. While butt-naked on the toilet, who doesn't want to see something like this?

Little stinker.

He enjoys spreading his BS skills all around the family. Here's what he wrote to his dad a few years ago, referring to the, er, squarish nature of my husband's rump-cheeks. And perhaps dad's gaseous emissions...


DadBob Squarebutt has busy pants. Apparently.

And speaking of anatomy, one night out, he carefully assembled his newly purchased Bionicle. He didn't feel that the toy needed to look like the picture on the box. Instructions? Those are for amateurs - not real men. He finished up, and waved THIS all around the restaurant.

We were so, um, proud. I think it was also happy to see me.

You're probably wondering how the little monkey gets away with all this:

Told you he was smart.