Time To Essay The Situation

(I am picking my two sons from school, aged six and eight. My eight-year-old comes out strutting like a peacock. I have to know what’s up with all the annoying swagger.)

Eight-Year-Old: *proudly* “I just said ‘NO’ to two girls without hurting their feelings.”

Me: “You said ‘NO’ to what?!”

Eight-Year-Old: “One girl said she should be my girlfriend; another girl said she should be my girlfriend. They argued, so I said, ‘Write me a 300-word essay why you should be my girlfriend. Best essay wins.’”

Me: “You could’ve just said, ‘No, thanks. I’m only eight. Ask me again when I’m thirty!’”

Eight-Year-Old: “Can’t say that. I have manners now.”

(I think, “since when did this punk acquire good manners?”)

Me: “What if one girl writes a great essay? Or both of them?”

Eight-Year-Old: “They’re only eight. They can’t even write a fifty-word essay. See what I mean?”

Me: “No, I’m not seeing anything.”

Eight-Year-Old: “I didn’t actually reject them. Can’t write the essay, can’t be my girlfriend. They hate themselves because they can’t write the essay, but they don’t hate me.”

Me: “Why do you care if they hate you?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Because angry girls are crazy and scary.”

Six-Year-Old: *breaking his silence* “You should see yourself when you’re angry, Momzilla!”

Me: “What planet are you guys from?”

Eight-Year-Old: “From Planet Uterus!”

Six-Year-Old: “We came out of your own loins!”

Me: “Oh. My. God.”