Mamma LOVES to be Wrong

Originally this entry was to be my first Mamma HATES. The working title was "Mamma HATES Puberty," but alas, that title just wasn't going to work. The distinction of the first Mamma HATES must wait for another day.

As I lay down with my youngest this evening I heard a rhythmic creaking from the next room. And right there I thought...here's the subject for tonight's blog. My oldest is almost 10 and I am just sure that he has figured a few things out.

Can I get a collective "Eeewwww!"

Listen, my mom remarried when I was 10, I lived through the trauma once already. I was not prepared to do it again so soon (25 years later).

So I waited as long as I could and with the littlest guy soundly sleeping, I figured I could safely leave his bed. Making sure to create just enough noise so that Mr. almost 10 would hear me coming, I took extra time to put on my shoes and walk out of the room. And what did I see when I peaked in his room? (oh come on, you didn't think I could just walk by without checking on him--he is my son, it's in my genes to check). Did I find Mr. almost 10 with the sheets pulled up and the lights off? Oh no! There he was sitting in his bed--with the lights still on--embroiled in a war between his Spiderman and Mighty Mouse stuffed toys. He is after all still 9. And how happy I was to be wrong!!!