I'm So Not Ready For This
Mr. Personality is growing out of his chubby toddler-like face and morphing into someone who everyday looks more and more like a young man. And a very good-looking one, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, a lot of tween and teen girls agree with me, and wherever we go, there is always a chorus of "Oh he's so cuuuuuute" and general fawning over him like he's the next Johnny Depp or something.
It hasn't been so bad mainly because they are random girls and I can just sort of dismiss them and not think about them anymore. But at his Tiny Tot program they have teen volunteers, and there is one girl in particular who lights up everytime he comes in the room. She is thin and pretty, with beautiful long brown hair. They seem to have some sort of friendship going, because he talks about her to me a lot. I will ask him her name, just to make sure I know who he is referring to, but he always forgets.
Today I picked him up from school and she was bent over, listening to his chatterbox conversation. He saw me, and asked her for "the paper." I stood cluelessly looking at the both of them. She pulled out of her pocket a piece of red construction paper on which she had written her name. I explained to her that Mr. P spoke of her a lot, and I had just wanted to know what her name was.
Then, Mr. P turned to her and said, "Oh, and I need your phone number, too!"
I told him that we didn't need her phone number right now, and as we walked away, I know she was giggling about it to her fellow volunteer who had been standing by the entire time.
When I relayed the entire story to Hubba-hubba, he pumped his fist in the air. Like father like son, he said, already getting the numbers of all the hot chicks.
Oy.
It hasn't been so bad mainly because they are random girls and I can just sort of dismiss them and not think about them anymore. But at his Tiny Tot program they have teen volunteers, and there is one girl in particular who lights up everytime he comes in the room. She is thin and pretty, with beautiful long brown hair. They seem to have some sort of friendship going, because he talks about her to me a lot. I will ask him her name, just to make sure I know who he is referring to, but he always forgets.
Today I picked him up from school and she was bent over, listening to his chatterbox conversation. He saw me, and asked her for "the paper." I stood cluelessly looking at the both of them. She pulled out of her pocket a piece of red construction paper on which she had written her name. I explained to her that Mr. P spoke of her a lot, and I had just wanted to know what her name was.
Then, Mr. P turned to her and said, "Oh, and I need your phone number, too!"
I told him that we didn't need her phone number right now, and as we walked away, I know she was giggling about it to her fellow volunteer who had been standing by the entire time.
When I relayed the entire story to Hubba-hubba, he pumped his fist in the air. Like father like son, he said, already getting the numbers of all the hot chicks.
Oy.
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