Mr Know It All

They torn down the old gas station at the end of our street last week. The DQ owners had bought the land and the gas station, and are putting a brand new DQ there in the coming months. I haven't decided if this is a good thing. Our current DQ (which is right next door to where the new one will be) is an old building, no drive thru, you have to go in and order, etc. The hassle is what keeps me from living there.

The new building will be bigger, and have a drive thru. A drive thru. I can feel my hips growing bigger from all the Moolattes and Blizzards that I see in the near future.

There was a story in the paper about the new DQ. I drove by the old DQ and the gas station, to show my boys what they were doing. Cody, Mr Know It All himself, told me that he already knew about it. I asked him how- he said that he 'read it in the paper.' You have to understand that Cody struggles with reading. So I, being the wonderful mommy that I am, praised him. I told him that he'll have to read me the story out of the paper when we get home.

He immediately did what he does when he doesn't want me to know that he doesn't know the answer or can't do something: he said 'Why don't you read it to me?' This was the first sign of Know It All Syndrome.

Fast forward to Friday. It's Fun Night, and Cody and I had a deal- he could only go if he got a B on his spelling test. His friend, M, comes to the door and asks if he's going to Fun Night (which he's not, because the teacher didn't hand out the tests and while I can always make up for his B, if he got an F, there's nothing that I can do that is the same as missing out on Fun Night at school). While M is there, he asks about Cody's birthday party. I tell them that M is invited, but it's a surprise as to where we're going for his party. Cody grins and says 'I know where we're going.' I ask him where, and he says 'I know, but do you know?'

Doesn't matter what it is you are trying to tell him (or not trying to tell him), he knows all about it already. It's frustrating, really. I've just started to shrug my shoulders and tell him 'whatever', because to say anything else just opens the conversation up for an argument. I can just see it now:

A grown, 28 year old woman, standing with her hands on hips, in front of her six year old son, who is looking up at her in defiance. The argument goes something like this: 'Do.' 'Do not.' 'Do.' 'Do NOT.' Until someone says 'you're a poopoo head doodie face'.