The Drama King and the Tampon Aisle

Luke is my husband’s almost 12yr old son who is extremely dramatic about most things most of the time. It’s just his personality. Everything is a big deal to Luke even things that shouldn’t be a big deal…to anyone. EVER.

Luke and Oliver (9) were having a naughty day Saturday. Perhaps they’ve been spending too much time with one another. I don’t know. They just couldn’t stop picking fights with one another Saturday while we were out shopping for our new house. Jonathan broke up fights. I broke up fights. We separated them. We made them hold the cart. I even held Oliver’s hand at one point in Target. Nothing we did seemed to calm their urge to pick fights.

So we’re in Target walking from the dog food section to the paper towels section. Oliver spits on Luke. Luke starts yelling and whining and dramatizing the number of pathogens in Oliver’s saliva. Jonathan pulls Luke aside by the ear and Luke starts whining how he wasn’t doing anything…which he was…he was arguing with Jonathan about what he was doing while throwing a tantrum about his brother’s spit. Jonathan has words with Luke then Luke, in typical drama king form, begins to tear up.

Oliver, blissfully unaware that he is next on Jonathan’s poop list, laughs because Luke got in trouble for freaking out about Oliver’s spit.  This sends Luke completely over the edge and he runs down nearest aisle in full blown sobs. The nearest aisle happened to be the tampon aisle. So there’s Luke, 12yrs old,  angry and crying in the tampon aisle, bottles of douche and Midol at eye level… I just couldn’t stop laughing.

Parenting is awesome.

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3 thoughts on “The Drama King and the Tampon Aisle

  1. Heh, they’re at that age. I raised four to adulthood, and the pre-teen and teenage years were the worst. Way worse than changing diapers and 3am colic. Oh, the fights! But, this too shall pass and you’ll have peace and quiet with your husband as they move on to wives and college (perhaps not in that order).

  2. I finally decided my mom was right when I had frustrated her to the pint of tears. She pointed her crooked finger at me and said the curse, “One day Frankie you will pay–your children will get even for me for all you did to me.” She was right. We had two nice girls and then my wife anted to try for a boy. We had a son who originated in hell—coming home in a police car at age 4, arson, shop lifting, concealed weapon charges, jail, and made my wife cry hundreds of times.

    I love you sense of humor about the two boys growing up. I was shocked shopping yesterday, but I saw three moms who each had three sons–what are the odds of that. Wow—3 sons!!! Poor moms. lol Boys are definitely different that girls to raise. I will take girls anytime. lol

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