Braden’s personality is this incredibly intoxicating blend of sweet, joyful, and smart mixed up with volatile, demanding, and loud. I’m going to go ahead and claim responsibility for passing on/modeling the former behaviors and blame my husband for the latter. Not because it’s true, but because I’m mostly an asshole and I like to say anything I can to make myself look good.
My son is not shy. He is unafraid to let you, and everyone around you, know exactly what he thinks and feels at any particular moment.
His thoughtful observations and questions [“If the bug is dead, we should just recharge his batteries.” / “Why is the sun sleeping?”]
strange ideas [“My penis is on backwards.”]
silly, quick quips [Him: “You need to get me a new eyeball!” Me: “Just call me Frankenmommy.” Him: “You’re not green.”]
and even his demanding and frustrated exclamations [“I CAN’T GO PEE, I HAVE TO DANCE FIRST.”]
are equally interesting and enlightening, often funny.
He’ll make you think and also laugh.
But did I mention that he’s loud? Holy crap, he’s LOUD. As John put it the other day, “He goes to 11. And often stays there.”
It’s so true.
Because of this, I was both excited and somewhat scared (okay, more than somewhat, possibly a shitload at times, when I considered it too carefully) about Braden’s very first time on an airplane. In fact, as soon as I found out we were going to get on an airplane with him, I started punching myself in the face no less than 10 times every 30 minutes to toughen myself up. I asked John to make airplane noises and then start screaming directly into my ear at random times when we’re in public to help condition me. For some reason he made the same face he made that one time I asked him how long he thought it would take for a mouse to explode in the microwave and whether or not that time would be altered by getting the mouse really drunk first.Read More»