Last night Jensen came running into the kitchen clad in Scooby Doo underwear. He stopped short in his socks when he spied Fiddledaddy removing a frozen pizza from the oven.
“DADDY! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO COOK NOW?”
“Why yes son, indeed I do.”
Phhhht. But it was the MOMMY that actually got the pizza out of the freezer, ripped open the box, and turned the oven to the appropriate degree mark.
Which counts for zero in my son’s eyes.
I watched the admiration level for his father rise a few more degrees. As if that was possible.
Last week, Fiddledaddy was out of town. Jensen, sensing the shift in power, pulled out all the stops in his quest to drive me to the brink of insanity. And then kick me over.
And yes, this was the period of time when Junior triggered the security alarm. The absence of Fiddledaddy just made the whole event more festive. I didn’t want to announce that factoid on my blog, “HEY, CALLING ALL MARAUDERS! I’M ALL ALONE HERE WITH THREE HIGH STRUNG CHILDREN. COME JOIN IN ON THE FUN!”
Ever since his daddy has been back home, Jensen has been known as “the shadow.” Not bearing for Fiddledaddy to be out of his sight.
Not really. It’s me who has to deal with the aftermath if the man needs to take a shower, or, you know, whatever.
Jensen asks a lot of questions these days. I MEAN A LOT OF QUESTIONS. And if his father is in the room, he’ll direct his questions to him.
Thusly, spreading the wealth. Not unlike our new administration.
However, if I happen to answer the question at hand out of habit, Jensen will pointedly repeat the inquiry again to his father.
The answer is, of course, the same. But it is as if I weren’t in the room. Or on the planet.
Let’s let the kid survive on frozen pizza for a week or two.
And then see who rules the roost.
(Who is really not all that bitter)