So, I was just thinking about all the shenanigans that I always managed to get myself into, and I realized, my children will likely get into the same damn shenanigans that I always managed to get myself into! Dammit!
My son is already so much like me. He’s got a temper. Oh, boy does he ever. He loves to push my buttons. And he’s so stubborn! He has to have 5 more minutes (of whatever he’s doing), he says! Ugh! And he’s gotten a bit impatient. In the past week, I think I’ve heard the phrase, “What’s taking so long?” so many times that I start to wonder if I really do things much slower than I realize?! I often find myself telling Bubs to calm the hell down. He can’t be going to Disney World like that. What the hell is he gonna do on a 60 minute wait line for Toy Story Midway Mania?! (During non-peak season, of course.) Good thing that these little issues are the only ones that I have to worry about…for now.
How old was I when I first took a drag off of my first cigarette? Was I only 16 or 17 when I first tasted alcohol? OMG! I should’ve said no to drugs!
I feel like such a badass compared to the Hubs. He never smoked (cigarettes or otherwise…). And I think he was already 21 by the time he ever got shitfaced. (And dammit, he was with me!)
So, if Bubs ever asks about smoking, drinking, and doing drugs, I think I’m just gonna let the Hubs handle that conversation. I think I’ll just be somewhere else for that one. Or I shall plead the 5th.