Michael has gotten so big. He's grown from a boy who used to wipe snot on my sleeve to a... never mind. He still wipes snot on my sleeve. Some things never change.
But, as he is becoming more aware of the world and its idiosyncrasies -- and spurred on by the "you look pregnant" incident -- I've decided it is high time to coach him on things he should never say to a woman; among them:
"Your legs are really jiggly!"
"Your bum is way too big to fit in that chair!"
"What did you do to your hair?"
"I don't like your outfit."
And, for good measure, "Dad is so much nicer than you!"
Okay, I guess that last one is better categorized as "Things you should never say to your mother," but still.
Harrrrumph. Commenting on my jiggly legs when he gets a sandwich and a bowl of soup for lunch and I'm stuck with one measly little egg and a single slice of bread if I want to have enough calories leftover for an apple. So unjust that my six-year-old gets to eat more than I do.
But then he proved his true character yesterday after I accidentally whacked him in the face with a snow shovel (the snow had melted enough that we decided to shovel off the trampoline and he was alternately goofing off and helping me when he suddenly straightened up right in the path of my shovel as I turned to pitch a load of snow off the side. Ouch!!). After he had settled down and the tears stopped I apologized again. "That's okay, Mom!" he said. Then we snuggled and that was the end of it.
Turns out I could learn a few things from him, too.