The other day I was driving home with baby boy in the backseat. We were giggling and acting silly, as usual. Then he says, "whatever, sassy pants!" I was like WHA?! No one has ever referred to me as Sassy Pants, except in my safe haven of bloggy land. The only logical explanation is that he is so onto me and my super secret blog! He probably reads my blog every morning while sipping his latte and discussing the national debt crisis with his classmates. I knew that damn pre-school was too hoity toity. Teaching kids to use computers and shit. When I was 4 I was making mud pies and trying to survive on fudge rounds and kool aid. Granted, my son and I have had very different childhoods, but that's neither here nor there.
(OMG - side note, I just heard a co-worker say "movers in the house...holla atcha girl"...I shit you not. Hi, were totally professional and work at the worlds largest oil company.) moving right along....
So now I have a problem. What if he tries to blackmail me? What if he's all..."mom, 3 more cookies and I'll keep your little secret. For now." I can't handle that kind of stress. Maybe I should have sent him to that pre-school that was $20 a week, and the playground consisted of a rope and an old tractor tire. Nooo, I had to choose the one that was "safe" and "clean" and where the teachers are "educated" and tuition costs more than my mortgage every month.
Just look at this face...looks like he's just waiting for the right opportunity to pounce with this new information. Little deviant.