Today is the 29th birthday of my second oldest child and oldest son – Noah. Regular readers know that I have often written about Noah in my blog before – with some of the most recent entries being in regard to our big adventure to Canada together (in which his Oprah attitude sorely tried me some days).
When Noah was little we used to call him Boomer. He regularly ran into things and fell down, but he rarely cried. He just picked himself up and barreled forward into his next unfortunate interaction with the wall or floor. Not much has changed over the years – he still does that – picks himself off, dusts himself off and keeps moving. He doesn’t really acknowledge those little dings as setbacks, nor does he change dramatically his pursuits because he might have gotten banged up in the process.
He has over the years though acquired and honed a very quick and sarcastic wit that often leaves the family and all my Facebook friends in stitches. It really does take all of one’s attention to keep up some days. I believe he most enjoys when he can use his wit to agitate his mother. He gets a little sparkle in his eyes and a devilish grin and you just know it isn’t going to be pretty. Unfortunately, the evil, twitching, “you better stop now” mother eye doesn’t work with him anymore. Neither does threatening to take him out of the will. These days I either have to pull out all stops to best him or resign myself to walk away defeated.
I hate when I have to walk away defeated though because Noah never forgets it… and even worse, he never lets you forget it. So I spend an awful lot of time staying on top of my game so that I don’t have to live with the fallout of failure. Of course, Noah does as he always does when he gets banged around – even in the event of being defeated in verbal intellectual sparring – he gets up and goes right back at it. Yes, indeed. Welcome to the happy world of the number two child, number one son and agitator supreme and his often tired, eye twitching mother. Here’s to 29 years of living with Boomer…Happy Birthday Oprah. 😉
Day seven hundred and forty-two of the new forty – obla di obla da
Ms. C
THE NEW FORTY 
Boomer sounds like a real hoot to grow up with, but you do have my (limited) sympathy regarding Noah-now. When my kids reached an age where lecturing might work, I confess to overdoing it. When my oldest son reached 16 and towered over me by 8″, he would listen respectfully to one of my will-it-never-end sermons, and then he would grin, pat me on the head and say “Listen to Miss Petunia Cakes just a-keepin’ on and keepin’ on!” He sure knew how to defuse a bizarre situation!
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