I remember when he was like this:
He turned into this:
He asked me this morning what time he was born so I told him a short version of that day. Here is what I said:
"Well, the night before I was in labor alllll night. I was in so much pain through the night. I just kept waiting and waiting for them to tell me it would be over soon so I could hold you. Then, at about this time in the morning, the REAL pain started happening and I knew it would be soon. THEN. The screaming started. And you were born at around 9 am."
Granted, not the best version of the story. But I didn't feel like talking about contractions and private parts to my baby at 7:00 in the morning.
So he looks at me with those sweet eyes, not the one in the above picture, these ones:
And he rolls them as far back in his head as humanly possible and says, "You could have just said 9:00."
Then turned and walked away.
Ohhhhhh...so this is how that pre-teen angst goes.
Welcome, eleven years old. This is going to be fun.