Wait, How Old Is He??

Yesterday evening, the Evil Genius and I met some friends at Mc D's for a healthy repast and a rousing game of whist.

Well - he did get apples and milk with his corn-and-soy covered chicken parts, so it wasn't entirely unhealthy. C'mon, leave me some illusions, please.

The boys had a blast, with one melt down that was adequately handled in two hours of play.

After I had calmed Bird down from that, just before he went back to playing, I asked him if he felt better. he said he did. He ate a processed chunk-o-chicken. I asked him if the nugget helped him feel better. He said yeah. I asked if it was a Zen nugget. He said no, actually, the nugget didn't help him feel better. "You help me feel better Mommy, when you talk to me like this, it helps my heart feel better." Aww!

Just before the Evil Genius and I left, he ran into another little boy, hitting the lad's head with his mouth. The other lad was fine after a moment, but for some reason Bird lost his little mind.

He cried and and was angry and didn't want to talk to me or even let me look at him. I finally got him headed out, and he stopped in the middle of the dining room, sat down to put on his shoes, and cried "All I want is a few minutes alone and you aren't letting me. You don't understand me. No one understands me!!"

I turned to my friend A and asked "How old is he again?" because I figured I wouldn't get that line until he was at least fourteen!

Good grief, they do start earlier and earlier, don't they?