As of September 2012, our Chooch is a 6-year-old 1st grader on the fast track to becoming Corey Feldman’s Mouth character in “Goonies.” His rapier wit is practically parallel to most adults I know, which is oft amusing, but mostly mildly worrisome and endlessly irritating.
“I totally don’t remember being this ridiculous when I was your age,” I yelled in defeat Saturday night.
“You probably weren’t,” Chooch answered from the backseat of the car in his patented infuriatingly smug tone.
I now have to bribe him with real American dollars just to take his damn picture. I miss the days of him being 100% at my mercy.
But let’s face it, those days didn’t last very long.
But he sure is good at pulling off an angelic face, that’s for sure. Little jerk.
Surprisingly, this rock was chucked into the river and not at my face. We’re making progress. (Baby steps.)
(And then Henry reminds me that he learned everything from watching me, anyway.)
As much as Henry hates these pants, he was even more relieved that the red ones didn’t come in Chooch’s size. (I only checked one store though, Henry!)
Everyone’s always going on and on about how much Chooch looks just like Henry. OK, whatever. I get it. However, he is otherwise so much like me, it’s almost like a horror movie. Yesterday morning, in the Murder House, he and Henry were arguing about something ridiculous and it just kept getting more and more heated (on Chooch’s end only; Henry continued to calmly make breakfast through all of the huffing and puffing and door-slamming). Finally, at the threat of not getting the Regular Show DVD he had been eying up over the weekend, he decided it would behoove himself to apologize; so he did, but it came out in a “Please call Father Karras and have me the fuck exorcized” snarl, at which point he became even more agitated because he didn’t like the way Henry said, “OK.”
So this started a new sub-fight.
Chooch wailed, “You didn’t say that right!
No wonder why Mommy always fights with you!”
An innocent by-stander up until this point, I piped up and said, “Well, he’s not wrong, Henry.”
“Thanks, Erin,” Henry sighed, sliding a plate of eggs in front of me. I love how he multi-tasks.
FUN FACT: This is actually Chooch’s bed.