Shine on, brightly

I'm not just being a typical mom when I say that truly my favorite person to spend time with and to talk to, especially in the past year, is the kid. I mean, sure, I love him and like spending time with him because he's my kid, and if you can't stand your own kid for at least part of your waking hours...well, there's something wrong with one or both of you.

Or maybe I am. I don't know. It's just that the times when he is being that favorite person (and not otherwise a pain in the ass 7 year old kid, which is to be expected from time to time--in fact, it'd be worrisome if he wasn't), I'm really not talking to him as my kid. Or even a kid, maybe. It's more like talking to a smaller version of myself. No, it's exactly like talking to a smaller version of myself, except one who's got an even smaller filter on calling bullshit on your, well, bullshit...and who is most definitely going to kick my ass in the memory game in a few years, not because he's younger (and I'm getting senile) but because he does have a better memory than I do (talk about freakish). 

He already knows more than I do, relative to his age--even if you take into account his ease of access to information, both due to geography and technology. Note I don't say he's smarter, because I'd beat his ass if we were peers under the same living circumstances. (Well, I'd like to think that, anyway. And I sure as heck am going to make him think that. Now that's being a typical mom).

If that whole justification sounds narcissistic, it because it is. And I'm not one bit ashamed of it.

Everybody's A Star (Starmaker) - The Kinks