Snarky – not to be confused with barky.
…which would go along with a dog and we know that action ain’t happening in our home … Although, we did make a little car trip this weekend to see a puppy. Oh yeah – loaded up all the kids and drove to McKinney to see the cutest little blonde golden retriever. She was as sweet as could be. Not once did she jump up on anyone or bite. She would run over and lie down at your feet hoping for a quick tummy rub then fall over her clumsy self to greet the next one. “So,” you might ask, “Who checks out a puppy and leaves without some purchase action?” …. We do. …Well, our big boss does. And where our boss goes, we go. But he was the one who thought it would be fun to check out the little pup – and boy was it.
When I came home tonight from a meeting, I saw on the table:
“Wyma Kids Contract
Your children have decided they want a dog/puppy! We will pick up poop, feed, walk, wash and play with him/her (train). We promise to take more responsibility in taking care of the dog … and more.
If we don’t take more responsibility then we will have to do some crazy stuff, including … getting the puppy a new home and also paying for the dog. (this means: the new owner will not have to pay for the dog for we did not take responsibility.)
Thanks for listening!! We love you <3”
This “agreement” had the girls fingerprints all over it. Nevertheless, all the kids signed it… even Future Hoarder of America. I guess FHA gave permission, because his handwriting was pretty darn good for a 4-year-old.
There was also and addendum: Please understand if we will mess up once or twice… if we do please tell us that we need to and we will.”
Ohhh…. so cute
So we don’t have barky – we just live in snarky – teen snarky.
Yesterday, I took the opportunity to sit by my teen on the couch. After a long homework effort he wanted to veg in front of a little mindless television. So I park it right next to him and put my arm around his shoulder.
“Mom.” pause – nod toward my arm. “Mom.”
“Is there a problem?” I innocently ask.
“Mom … really. Just please don’t touch me.”
“You’re my boy. You might look like a man, but you’re still my little guy. … and, I like having my arm around you.”
“Uh… it’s just … Mom!”
“Alright – I’ll move my arm.” I say as I scoot closer and scrunch right up next to him – remembering the days when he couldn’t get enough of me. When he was two, snuggled up on my shoulders, inching as close as possible so as not to give any ground the his new baby sister while she was nursing.
He looks at me with that, “you’ve got to be kidding” eye-brow raise and thinks for a moment. After running through the options in his mind, he decides to walk the snarky road,
“No offense, Mom … I really just want to be alone… Do you mind leaving.”
Okay, so maybe my snuggling was a bit much. Note to self: Sneak in and sit … just make sure it’s on the other side of the couch.
Thanks for walking the road with me.