Demon Baby has a new phase. Two of them. First, he's got a case of the "why's."
"What are you doing, Mom?"
"Because that's what I do." (I contemplated getting all existential on him, but . . . )
"Because I have to earn a living."
"Because that's how I buy things, like food, our house . . ."
"Because we live in a capitalist culture."
You get the idea.
But he's also, being a Demon, in this phase where ANYTHING he doesn't like, he says will "die." The word is meaningless to him. I think he picked it up from his siblings. "Oh, I was so embarrassed. I almost died." You know, an expression.
So . . . conversations go like this.
"Eat some broccoli."
"I HATE broccoli."
"Eat some anyway."
"NO! Broccoli will DIE!"
We ignore him. He curses the dogs, me, his siblings, wearing diapers, bedtime, to death.
"I don't want to go to bed. I HATE SLEEP! SLEEP WILL DIE!"
"YOU WILL DIE, MOM!"
In the confines of our won home, we know it's a phase.
This was all well and good until we went to church on Sunday. We climbed out of the car. And then, in the loudest voice possible, he yelled, "I HATE CHURCH. I HATE JESUS. JESUS WILL DIE!!!!"
There are times, lately, when I wonder if I should even leave the house.