My husband can be SO evil. We played racquetball for about an hour yesterday. During the first game, very early on, I racked up about 8 points. I kept thinking to myself, "Wow, Papabear must really be out of shape...or maybe, just maybe, I am finally getting fit and good enough at this game to beat him honestly!" Oh no. My poor little brain.
When I hit 11 points (15 wins), Papabear apparently started to "really" play. He killed me. During the second game we were both so winded I'm glad no one could see us - we must have looked so lame and pathetic and old. When he won that one he said, "I think I'll just beat you real quick this time." That did it. My second wind came in and he had to fight HARD for every stinking point. He still beat me, 15 to 13, but it was an awesome game.
As we drained our water bottles and headed for the locker rooms, he said, "I really like playing with you." Now, you might think he was being sarcastic or condescending, but no. He was so sincere and he had a sparkle in his eyes that took me right back to the days when we wrestled in our dorm room after a new episode of Friends or ER...thirteen years ago! So, no he's not really evil...just a stinking good racquetball player (against the likes of me, that is).
And here is how his son takes after him. Littleman decided not to nap today. That's fine, he just has to stay in his room and be relatively quiet for about an hour. Twenty minutes into "nap time" he slinks over to my office, where I am diligently paying the bills, and says, "Um, Mommy...my poop's mommy wants him to come out now. My poop's daddy is at work. He draws pictures." (Where does he get this stuff????) We go to the bathroom and take care of that. He goes back to his room, I return to my office.
Ten minutes later, "Uh, Mommy? I am going to read a lot of books now." He is completely naked. Lovely. "Littleman, stay in your room." Things are relatively quite for a good chunk of time. But, no sooner have I closed the check book when I hear bigger noises, as in, much-bigger-than-taking-a-book-off-the-bookshelf noises. Oh boy.
He has snuck out to the dining room, "stolen" a chair from his kiddie table, and dragged it into his closet. He is still naked, mostly. Now he is wearing a fireman's helmet. His back is to me, so he doesn't know that I am sitting on his bed watching him. He is pulling all sorts of stuff down, moving his suitcase, just completely engrossed in some major three-year-old-Littleman mission.
Finally, he turns and sees me. "OH!" He was only slightly startled. "Um...Mom...I," he hesitates, "Mommy, I have energy now and I needed to make some changes in here. It's a little bit messy, but I know you can clean it up."
Evil. NO, NO! Cutest thing in the world. I nearly fell off the bed I was laughing so hard. (We tell him he has to take naps so that he'll have energy to play in the afternoon. He usually buys it. He's still napping for 90 or so minutes four to five days of the week!)
