And NO, it’s not any of the USUAL problems I have with girls.
Usually, any problems I have with a girl can be solved by calling them a taxi and leaving some money on the nightstand…..
But my problems with Molly are completely of the different variety.
You see, Molly is 9 years old.
Now hold on….. Before you go and call Child Protective Services on me, let me explain.
Molly is Mini-Me’s new school friend. Which is all fine and dandy with me. He can have as many girl friends as he wants. After all, we don’t call him “Mini-Me” for nothing. The charmed lad looks exactly like me…. he’s not going to be able to keep the girls as bay much longer.
But little Molly is wearing on my patience.
The girl, who goes to school with Mini-Me, has begun to call him at 7:00P.M.
Seriously, by 7:01, the phone rings, and sure as beans, it’s good ol’ Molly, asking if Mini-Me can come to the phone.
And then they begin to talk….. FOR HOURS!
Honestely, if I didn’t tell him it was time to get ready for bed, I think they would talk all night.
And it’s not even “normal” talk… they just usually make funny noises at each other, trying to make the other one laugh.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it’s cute….
… for the first 10 minutes or so.
But after an hour or so of hearing my son spout nothing but nonsense-babble, I feel like playing a rousing game of Russian Roulette like Christopher Walken in the Deer Hunter.
It’s seriously tugging at my last nerve.
Anyone else getting sick of their kid’s friends calling all the time? The little tyke is only 9, for Gosh Sakes! I know it only gets worse from here, but I really did think I had a FEW years left before I had to deal with this shit.
It’s my own damn fault for procreating in the first place….
It wasn’t fair to the rest of the female world to unleash another “me” upon them.