**Updated with one detail – I was too embarassed initially to admit Rockstar wasn’t just speaking rudely, he was also making this kicking action at people. He gets a bit off after coming back from relative lawlessness at the grandparents’ when Main Law Enforcer (a.k.a. mum) gets undermined. Which, btw, is also embarassing to admit.
#1:
I bump into 2 Relationship Managers (RMs – the private bankers who sell investments to and manage the portfolios of rich guys) I used to make recommendations for. My first <guilty> thought is Thank Goodness I Dressed Rockstar in Jacadi today. My second is Why Did I Have To Meet Them With Rockstar.
Taken just before we meet the RMs. (Yes, he was wet through, up to his hips after all the splashing. We got amused looks from passersby.)
RMs: What a cute boy! Hello! Here’s some Hong Bao
Rockstar: Don’t want it.
(Proceeds to shake his head and say “No”.)
Me: What did I say, if Mummy can’t meet friends with you around, Mummy is going to have to meet friends without you around.
<expectant pause>
<silence>
Me: (after numerous apologies to RMs): Uh, doesn’t he make your kids look good?
(One of the RMs has a 16 year old boy who gets strings of As… She also imposes a diet and martial arts on her tween daughter who is apparently tubby. Have never met her kids, have no idea what counts for “tubby.” The other has a 6 year old boy.)
#2:
Me: Look, Rockstar, the little girl wants to be friends with you!
Rockstar: No.
Me (gushing embarassedly to little girl’s mum): Uh, he’s shy with pretty girls
Rockstar: I’m only shy if they’re pretty*.
*His definition of “pretty” is any little girl sociable enough to approach him… Or who has long hair (go figure – he complains I’m “not pretty” if I tie my hair back)
#3:
After similar episode with waiters at Peak Lookout where we’re regulars:
Me: That’s it. Be rude again and I’ll – I’ll throw away your skates*.
Rockstar: WHY?
Me: Because you need to understand there are consequences to bad behavior. If you’re naughty, you lose friends. Get grounded. Go to jail.
Rockstar looks incredulous.
Me: What, you think I won’t? Try me. Mummy might still love you even when you’re naughty (he asks every once in awhile when I say he’ll lose friends) but Mummy can live without your skates.
Do it again, and your skates are going in the trash. And don’t expect any amount of crying to get me to fish them out again. You know your mother is a germ freak.
<10 minutes later>
The next table is filled by a young man and woman with a giant Golden Retriever.
YM: What you got there, buddy?
Me: What did I say?
Rockstar (no trace of sullen-ness): Skates.
YM: Can I see?
Rockstar lifts a foot.
YM: How old are you?
Rockstar: I just turned three.
YM: How many fingers is that?
Rockstar counts, then holds 3 up.
After they turn back to their menus:
Rockstar: Mum.
Me: What?
Rockstar: I’m keeping my skates.
*Rockstar just started clattering about in skates this weekend. I got that from an ex-colleague who once described how she binned her 10 year old boy’s favorite toys for misbehavior. She used to head a small dealing room that was more than 90% male. She was also one of my shopping buddies <blissful reminiscence>…..
She took leave for weeks when her son had exams, but she never took crap.
