THAT kid.

Okay, my kid is THAT kid.  My kid is the one that spits at his classmates.  My kid is the one that hits first, asks questions later.  My kid is the one that put the pretend doll in the pretend kitchen oven to bake it.  My kid is the one that cuts in line.  My kid is the one that has been sent to the office so much, they have me on speed dial.  And my kid is the one who looks at the principal through his glasses, with his sweet blue eyes and blonde spiky hair, and says he is sorry and will make better choices.

My kid is the one that had this conversation with the pre-school teacher (they call it Jr. Kindergarten but until they keep him all day, everyday, it is just pre-school):

Other kid in class says,  What the hell?
Teacher over hears other kid and asks a rhetorical, What did you say?
My kid, thinking the teacher really did want to know, answers,     He said 'what the hell'

My kid is only five and the youngest of six kids and his entire life goal is self-preservation.  He fights with his brothers, the dogs and to get the fruit snack bag open.  But being the baby, he gets away with a lot.  I am tired.  His dad his tired.

 Just  give him what he wants so he'll stop screaming!

Even the teenagers, who give their opinions freely, think they could do a better job raising him. Some days I think maybe they could too.

 But I am not worried about him.  This is also my kid with the softest kisses on the planet.  This is the kid who loves to cuddle and read books.   This is the kid that loves to watch the old Pink Panther cartoons and laugh his head off.   This is the kid that likes to draw pictures and give them to people wrapped like presents.   This is the kid who sticks  his tongue out when he concentrates on anything.  And this is the kid that prays for our dead dog and sleeps with his baby blanket to the sounds of Veggie Tales.

THAT kid is my kid.