He's honest- brutally honest. And he makes no apologies for it (And he shouldn't! He's only 4!) But at the same time, this boy is embarrassing me with his running commentary lately...
A couple of weeks ago my mom got her hair cut in this super cute bob. It was a pretty drastic change from her shoulder skimming look. Miles took a look at her and said, "What's the matter with your hair?" My mom, always ready to dish some snark (one of the many reasons I adore her!) said, "Nothing! What's the matter with your hair." Without even so much as a pause Miles blurted out, "My hair looks fabulous. Your hair looks ridiculous."
I wanted to crawl in a hole. My mom was a great sport and she and Miles now tease each other about this, but it was one of those moments in time that you'd rather erase! This incident was followed by many conversations about not hurting people's feelings, yada, yada, yada... It totally went in one ear and out the other because...
That same week, my grandmother picked Miles up from school while I went to a doctor's appointment. She needed to make a quick stop at the grocery store on her way home. The parking lot was wet with puddles from the rain the night before so she picked Miles up and carried him into the store. This gave him just enough time to study her face and make an observation. With one hand on each of her cheeks, he looked her square in the eye and said, "You are so. very. old."
*Pardon me while I go crawl back in that hole*
And then there was the most recent incident with the social worker. Y'all, our kids always save their best work for the social workers. (Remember this one about the boogers?) I'm sitting at the kitchen table chatting with our worker when Miles runs in. "Hey!!!!" he says, "Loooooook! I've got a stick in my pants!" (Now, to help you get the full effect, I had him recreate the look later that night. For the record, at the time of the incident, Miles did have his shirt on properly. For the sake of this picture though, we just went with how he was wearing his shirt at the time of picture taking.)
The stick. In his pants.
Our social worker giggled at him and said something like, "You do have a stick in your pants!" And he said, "WAIT! Look!" And then revealed what was really in his pants...
"I have this big hand down my pants!" And then we lost it. Our worker said, "And this is why I always love coming to your house!" Because evidently her other clients do NOT walk around with someone else's big, rubber, pointer hand down their pants. Imagine that?
So tact? We evidently have none but are trying to teach it... good times!
And speaking of good times- enjoy Miles' magic show... I give him two days post high school graduation before he leaves me for the stage somewhere.
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