Alex is hosting his first sleepover tonight. I’m not sure how I feel about this new development in his life, so I am tentatively playing along, holding all the cards and making all the rules. We’ll see how it goes.
Right now the three youngest are tucked into bed, Kenny is playing a game on the Wii, and I’m sitting at the computer. Every few minutes we’ll hear a burst of laughter from downstairs (where they have armed themselves with treats, movies, video games and every single blanket in the house), or a chorus of “Dude!” that makes me want to bang my head into the wall, and I can’t help but wonder how my son went from intelligent, articulate little boy to obnoxious skater punk.
You know, ’cause he’s all, Dude! and I’m all, “Dude?” and he’s like, Dude, Mom, yeah! and I’m like, “Dude, Mom?” and then Christian goes, Dude, this ROCKS! and Alex goes, Yeah, Dude, it does rock! and then he says, Dude, Mom, why are you crying, Dude?
And I vow to never let him host another sleepover, or go back to school, or grow up any more.
Because, DUDE. Seriously.
I want my sweet little boy back.