whatever, weird guy

Lately I have been really laying on our 7-year-old son to leave our 5-year-old son the heck alone. Connor is a typical pain-in-the-ass oldest child, and I can say that because I was one myself. There is nothing Seamus says, no opinion he holds, no song lyric he burbles that Connor does not attempt to micromanage into something just a little bit better. This drives Seamus absofrackinglutely nuts. And you can hardly blame him.


We all went out to dinner on Saturday night, and after Connor sent Seamus into paroxysms of rage three or four times, my husband forbid Connor to say another word to Seamus for the rest of our dinner. To my great surprise, this worked, and Connor spent the rest of our time there doodling on a napkin.


It was only when we got home, and Connor left the napkin behind on the kitchen counter, that I got a look at what it said: 


Seamus
absoloutly toldly not true
bla-bla
no you didn’t
whatever weird guy

Connor had figured out a way to assert that whatever Seamus was saying was absolutely, totally not true, without saying so out loud.

My God, I’m proud of him.

And I’m going to give this a shot the next time I have a fight with my husband: pull out the napkin, and start writing. Whatever, weird guy.