I’m 157% certain if Cort would have been the firstborn child, he’d be an only child. God must have known this, so not only did he save him for last so he wouldn’t be an only child, but also to serve as a constant form of birth control, for me and pretty much anyone who meets him. He is currently sitting on my bed, roaring at the top of his lungs about nothing in particular which has me considering inventing a mute control button for punks. Not only would this save my ears from bleeding but I’d be richer than Bill Gates. I’m pretty sure I’d also get a key to the city and a day named after me which would be awesome, too.
The upshot of the fact he is completely fearless, weird, loud, stubborn and hilarious is that I think it means he’s going to be successful in whatever he does with his life. His current life goal is to be a ninja with blue hair because it will pay him a $1000, but I’m not sure one can actually make a career out of being a ninja so I’m hoping he’ll eventually pursue something that might actually pay the bills so he can move out one day.
He’s been getting up at 3am everysinglenight for the last week and has decided his bed is stupid and dumb and that he hates it. He’s even gone so far to call his bed an idiot which tells me he’s serious about his level of hate for it. Although, he calls everyone an idiot when he’s pissed off (approximately 23 hours a day) so it might just be his “thing”. That’s the problem with having older punks – they teach the little ones cool words like stupid, idiot, hate and shit. Okay, I’m responsible for “shit” and I’ll admit, it’s hard to let that one piss me off when he uses it in context.
If he wasn’t so cute I’d consider giving him away because this one little punk is the work of 10. He’s lucky he climbs into my lap every morning to see if he still fits because I’m able to look pass the fact he’s borderline insane and fall in love with him all over again. Most people might think that I’m crazy because I really like the fact that he’s so damn weird but I think he’s one of the coolest little people I’ve ever known. Even when he’s pissed off at me, refuses to put his pants on, and passes out in the middle of the floor I think he’s pretty awesome.
I hope he always stays this way (minus the sleepless nights and being so pissed all the time). I hope he never meets a person who thinks he should be different and tries to change who he is. That he never feels he has to change who he is to fit in or make someone else happy. I might not do everything right as a parent but teaching my punks they don’t have to fit in is one of the best things I’ve given them. I don’t think there’s anything better than people in our lives who don’t fit perfectly into a mold and I’m proud that, right now, my punks are as unique as they come.
So when you see us out and one of them is rocking a cape, a skull sweater, swim trunks and cowboy boots (a popular outfit this summer), and singing Pearl Jam at the top of their lungs, just know that this is my definition of rocking parenthood.