9.30.2012

My Son the Punk

This boy has reached a new milestone, that of punk.

When his older (new high schooler, obviously far cooler than we will ever be) sister decided to start calling me 'Mom' instead of 'Mommy,' and I protested and called in Leo for backup, asking him what my name is, did he say "Mommy"?

No, he replied, "Mom!," then laughed impishly and right in my face.

Punk.

When, after working with him for weeks on washing his hair using a hand-held shower head, and evaluating and fretting over whether it is reasonable to have him hold said shower head above his shoulders and move it all over  his head (crossing the midline, for those who get the OT term), I turn away from him for a moment after he's lathered his head, did he sit there complacently and wait for me to instigate the next step?

No, he took matters into his own hands, turned on the shower with the shower head still held in its bracket, and rinsed his hair his own damn way by standing up, moving his head, and turning his body. No OT, shower-head-raising, or midline-crossing needed.

Punk.

When iOS 6 eliminated his YouTube app and list of favorite videos, did he complain? Yes. But did he stop there? No. Now he's working on typing in the names of all his favorite videos, finding them, and reinstating them. Because he's awesome.

And not just a punk.

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