My little man is starting to develop a Napoleon Complex. Of course, as his mother, I’m aiding and abetting, albeit unwittingly.
Doodles’s school fundraising auction was last Friday. (Side note: my boy has a super cute podcast up on his school’s website. If you know the name of the school, look at the podcast on May 7. If I know you, you can e-mail me for the link.) I went. I drank. I bid. Never a good combination. The upshot is I got two things I really wanted. And the boy? The boy got the one thing he really wanted.
The next morning, he woke up really early. “Did I get it?!” he asked.
“Get what?” I said.
He gave me an exasperated sigh. “You know what!”
“I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes. “Mr. Principal, that is.”
“YEA!!!”
Yes, that’s right, my son is going to be principal for the day. He’ll be ruling the school, and then he gets to invite two friends to join him for lunch with the current principal. He’s already informed me that he’s giving everyone extra choice time.
My father already asked. And I’ll give you the same answer I gave him: I’m not telling how much it cost. Let’s just say it was four Chardonnay’s worth of bidding. (Blame my husband. Who else walks up to his wife and says, “I thought you’d want another glass of wine while you’re bidding”? Insane!)
This morning, before school started, it was like he was a rock star. “Doodles! I heard you’re going to be principal! Who are you taking?”
Let’s see how long this takes for it to go to his head. I suspect it may have started already. I’m pretty sure I just heard him say to Pie, “Some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me.” She better watch out for horse heads.
