In addition to his superior whining-and-driving-your-momma-completey-crazy skills, he's also developed a knack for drama. And by drama, I mean making things a way bigger deal than they really are in order to get attention (kinda like some of your Facebook friends, huh?). Fortunately, he doesn't have a Facebook account (yet), and the shit he says when he's in full-on drama mode is priceless.
|He's been perfecting this sad look for awhile.|
Example #1: On what I fondly refer to as a Growing Day (the days where Gavin eats a TON and is incredibly tired all day), Gavin, our friend, YaYa, and I were going to have a bonfire in the backyard, but we needed a few items to make s'mores. So, I went in my bedroom to change my clothes so we could head to the store while YaYa helped Gavin put on his shoes. He was tired, and cranky, and the following conversation ensued:
Gavin: (crying) I wanna go to the store.
YaYa: Well, come here, and I will help you put your shoes on.
Gavin: I just want my mommy.
YaYa: She's right down the hall in her room.
Gavin: No, she's not. She's gone. I miss my mommy.
YaYa: She's just in her room putting her shoes on.
Gavin: No, she isn't. I looked and looked for her, and I can't find her anywhere.
I have no idea how she kept a straight face. I, on the other hand, was listening from the bedroom and laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face.
Me: I'll be right back, Gavin. I'm going to go to the bathroom.
Gavin: But I want to come with you.
Me: No. I've told you before that Mommy goes potty by herself.
Gavin: But I just want you (grabbing my neck and hanging on for dear life).
Me: I'll be right back; I'm just going to go potty really quick.
Gavin: But I'll miss you, Momma. Please don't go.
You're going to miss me in the minute and thirty seconds I'm in the bathroom? Nice try, kid.
Example #3: We're in the car, and Gavin is tired and whiny.
Gavin: (in all seriousness) Momma, Daddy punched me in the face.
Me: He did? (Note, there is no hint of concern in my voice. I've seen Gavin's face - there is not a bruise or blemish on his perfect complexion. Plus, we've played this game before . . . I know the truth. Just wait for it.)
Gavin: Yes, he did.
Me: Huh. Now, why did Daddy punch you in the face?
Gavin: I don't know; he just did. He punched me two times.
(Meanwhile, his dad is trying not to laugh.)
Me: Oh, he punched you two times did he? Were you wrestling?
Gavin: (in a small voice) Yeah.
Me: Were you guys messing around?
Gavin: (still a small voice) Yeah.
Me: Was Daddy just playing?
Me: Did it hurt?
Me: You guys were just having fun, huh?
Gavin: (with giddy excitement in his voice). Yeah. It was funny. We wrestled, and Daddy punched me in the face but not hard.
Me: I figured. (rolling my eyes)
You see, Gavin and his dad wrestle. All. The. Time. It's like WWF or whatever it's called now. But, rarely doesn't anyone get hurt, and if someone does get hurt, it's usually not Gavin. Every time they wrestle, I get a play-by-play from Gavin that usually starts with something like: "My Daddy beat me up." Or, "I beat up Daddy really good."
Now, honestly. Can you imagine if he goes to preschool and starts telling his "versions" of what happened? I can only imagine. "Mommy won't let me go in the bathroom and sometimes I can't find her anywhere. And my Daddy punches me in the face." Drama. Drama. Drama.