Purposeful hitting. Check.
High kicks meant for the Circle Pit. Check.
A hardcore scream meant for Slayer. Check.
A DIY anti-law attitude. Check.
...In other words my sweet, little, snuggly boy has become a punk...
Not a "let's make him wear skinny jeans, a "vintage" Metallica shirt, and spike his beautiful baby hair into a faux hawk" punk. More like a "DIY, stubborn, I'm smarter than you, anti-establishment" punk.
I just want to pull a Homer Simpson and ring his adorable, tiny, sweet little neck. He is so cute, even when hitting, he is the cutest most amazing thing ever. Everything turns into a competition, a fight for independence. It's what 16 year-old emo kids dream of. The struggle against authority. Taking down the man and turning life into a lawless system based on entropy...
Oh hell, entropy is a system of belief...
Strong-willed this two-year old is. He is extremely smart, loves letters, wait no, hates letters, no, loves them...why again did I want him to be like me?
...Conor...
I LOVE YOU
I AM SO PROUD OF YOU
I THINK YOU HUNG THE MOON AND ARE MADE FROM THE STARS
BUT PLEASE...NO HIT, NO KICK, NO YELL.
BE MAD AND ASSERT THAT LITTLE STREAK OF INDEPENDENCE.
BUT PLEASE...NO HIT, NO KICK, NO YELL.
BE SAD AND CRY THOSE BIG CROCODILE TEARS AND GET RED-FACED.
BUT PLEASE...NO HIT, NO KICK, NO YELL.
MOMMY
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