Please Send Aspirin. And Earplugs. And Maybe Narcotics.

I Pretty Much Only Talk to My Kid in the Car

I can tell you with 100% certainty the adults in this house have had nothing to do with the kid deciding she loves sports. NOTHING. If we were responsible for it, we would also be pulling her puppet strings away from the evil that is the Latina Whore (Dora), making sure she never so much as glanced at Zach Efron's thrusting pelvis in High School Musical, and there would most certainly not be a tacky pink cheerleader outfit sitting around. The kid has a mind of her own, and she definitely determines what she does and does not like.

Number one on her sports list is hockey. We didn't do that, but we're plenty happy to play along with it.

I think.

As Alexis and I were in the car, headed home, I happened to have sports talk radio blaring. She was OK with the noise coming out of the speakers because the topic of discussion was the Penguins. She loooooooves to talk about the Penguins. In fact, she was basically repeating everything the the radio guy was saying. Then, suddenly, she veered off track.

"Momma, he said 'Sidney Crosby.' I like Sidney Crosby!" she said, her voice dripping with the sounds of a young crush. I smiled to myself as she said it. After all, what is there not to like?

"Sidney Crosby can kiss me," she continued, blasting me out of my happy place and straight into my grave.

The teenage years are gonna suck, aren't they?

She Even Imagines She's a Goody Two-Shoes

I was in the mood to fight, so instead of reaching down and restarting the High School Musical CD when it ended, I let the Justin Timberlake CD start.

"I want to listen to High School Musical," Alexis said.

"It's my turn to pick music," I replied. I nearly always let the kid listen to whatever she requests in the car, but like I said, I was in the mood to fight. (What? You don't start fights with your kid? Well, you should. It's fun.)

"I'm going to tell your husband," the kid threatened.

I had to laugh at that unique response. "Go ahead," I tossed back over my shoulder.

Alexis dug around for a few minutes and eventually came up with her purse. It must have been sitting beside her car seat, jammed into some crevice. She quickly slid the zipper back and rummaged until she found her plastic Tinkerbell phone.

"Hi, Daddy," she said into the phone. "Mommy won't let me listen to High School Musical."

She paused, as if listening to a response.

"Oh," she continued. "Five minutes? OK," she said as she hung up the toy phone. "Daddy said I can listen to High School Musical in five minutes," she gloated.

"No, he didn't," I replied. I told you I was in the mood to fight.

"Yes, he did," she said defensively.

"I'm going to call him and ask him myself," I threatened.

"Nooooo! Don't call Daddy! I'll call Daddy," Alexis quickly said as she grabbed her phone again. "Hi, Daddy. Mommy said 'no' but . . . " her voice trailed off as the so-called conversation continued. My money says the kid wins an Academy Award for Best Fake Phone Call some day. A few moments later, she said, "OK, Daddy," before shutting the phone again.

"Daddy says I have to listen to you," Alexis reported in her most annoyed voice.

How am I supposed to start a fight with my kid when she's such a self-policing goody two-shoes?