Deklan went down for his nap on Sunday like his normal little masterminding 3 year old self and woke up 2 hours later like Caillou’s evil twin brother. I tell you what, it brought a whole new meaning to that saying: “it could always be worse, you could be Caillou’s mom.” I got so used to his whiny voice I almost forgot what his normal voice sounded like when I woke up him the next morning. Even when he was arguing with me about how he was not acting like Caillou, all I could see when I looked at him was Caillou’s wretched little face.

We finally took him outside just to see if a little Vitamin D would bring him back to reality, but before we had a chance to test our theory he overheard me tell Chris we should order Chinese takeout for dinner. Naturally, he reacts like any other ungrateful human being would and throws himself on the ground yelling, “I don’t want Chinese chicken! I like Chinese chicken, but it’s too spicy for me! Why don’t you know that?” First of all, calm the F down. Second of all, I never order you anything spicy because you have your father’s “I’ll take a hot dog plain at the age of 32, please” taste buds, so I DO know that. Third, I’m hearing you say you like it, so I’m confused? In true mother of the year fashion, I ignore him and offer to be the gopher just so I can get the h-e-double-hockey-sticks outta there for a hot minute. Heck, I even intentionally drove Chris’ car that was low on gas just so I had an excuse to make another stop. This is coming from someone who will call her husband to meet her at the gas station just so she doesn’t have to pump her own gas. I’m lazy and I hate the smell, there you have it. This kid though, he’s killing me today.

$42 and 30 minutes later, I’m back with dinner greeted angrily by a pantless Caillou look-a-like who is determined he will not eat whatever is in that bag. I had ordered him sweet and sour chicken thinking it would be a safe bet. His tongue barely hits the fork before he starts spitting it out yelling, “IT’S TOO SPICY!” Ketchup is more spicy than that sauce so I call bullshit. I have little fight left in me though, so I scrape any resemblance of sauce off his place through gritted teeth and get him new chicken with no sauce on it. The minute that sauceless chicken grazes his lips he yells out again, “NO! IT’S STILL TOO SPICY!” It’s basically a Chicken McNugget meal at this point  – minus the toy, so now you are just being impossible.

In one final attempt to avoid having to make him anything, I encourage him to try it again by telling him that it must not be too spicy for brother because he seems to be enjoying it. And as you can imagine, that backfired real quick. He immediately threw his legs into the air so that I now have an aerial view of his ball sack and started screaming about how Carter is smarter than him and that’s not fair!

You want to talk about fair? I’m starving, my once hot meal is now cold, you’re prepubescent balls are always all over my furniture, I know I’m going to feel disgustingly full once I finally get the chance to eat and then I’ll be going back for seconds in about an hour because I’ll be starving again (why does Chinese food do that to you?), and tomorrow is Monday. Life ain’t fair, Son, get used to it!