|Jul 31 2011|
I used to be full of bullshit, no doubt. In fact, I believed me half of the time. The general idea was to never sell something that I wouldn't use myself, even though I loathe the idea of selling anything. However, for survival, I would sell my (insert family member here, equal opportunist n shit). ..lol I'm kidding. But I more than empathize with the thought.
I'm not a religious person, but I found myself in a heavily populated area, praying to whoever to give me patience not to flip the fuck out like a three year old. My son is almost nine, and has Asperger's. ...and yes, he is a tiny "Rain Man", but there is one difference. The so-called "Rain Man" did not horrify me in front of thousands of people in an amusement park at that very moment, so I had no sympathy for the devil. Believe me when I say that most people, after spending time with my son... lmfao well, they either run away, cry, or try to get him to stop humping their leg. So anyway, as you can imagine the incident was really, really inappropriate (as many with PDD and Asperger's are, it's normal). Being that it was very hot outside, and I was toting my mother along...
...the single, mindless bobbing of the wooden bird's head into the glass of water. Back and forth, back and forth... almost there but but butttttt... nope. This single concept is my mother. "When life gives you lemonade, you drink it and stop complaining.".
So, I prayed to someone, I have no idea who, to rid my son of his utter bullshit because he was laying it on real thick. He is a master manipulator, for sure. It's well known not to let the little romantic run too long with it, one minute he's smiling and complimenting your looks, next thing you know he's up ten bucks and has a date with your niece. Hand to god or whatever, no lie. A seducer, and a bullshit faker who I wanted to just kill that day... Damn him for being so smart, and I think I resent the fact that he is that resourceful. At that age, I wouldn't have had the slightest clue about what this kid knows. Here's where his Kung Fu lessons come in: To respect your opponent.
My son knows I would literally, physically explode from anger and die before I hit him and he will not stop using this to get my goat. Once he gets my goat, then blam he's already stuck and looped on it. I do blame myself for his morbid sense of humor, as that came from me, but it's scary to think about that genetic insanity on repeat for the rest of time.
I just don't know. Rarely do I have any ragetums anymore. Usually I'm really good at recognizing it, and plus, My son and I are extremely in tuned with one another. Eerily so, sometimes...but to think, in that exact moment, in the unbearable sun and crowds and noise, the line gets purdy fine, don't it. I'm sure that was the moment that I became my Dad. That moment when you inhale and say to yourself, "It's all wrong, but it's alright.".
One small rain man, one pecking entity of horrific timing (Mom also holds awards in "Insult to Injury"), and a hypersexual ball of mania on way too much caffeine... Hmmmmm..... We all live together. Three generations of wtf. How did this happen? I mean, seriously what are the odds, unless there is a god and this is some kind of daycare he's got us in so we're not a danger to ourselves or anyone else lmfao omg funny.
Ok, I need to go to bed because I says so. I just love that boy. I seriously hope that he can turn this ability to more positive directions, rather than selling me the Brooklyn bridge. I do often forget that he really doesn't know that I know better. Hmm, or do I? Ha!
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