There are very few things I find more annoying than someone violating my personal space. Just cause he’s my kid doesn’t exempt the Kaiser. I talked to Karen about this a couple weeks back, and when I mentioned it, she groaned (she groans a LOT) in complete agreement.
“Oh my GOD (groan). I know. It’s like, ‘Get the FUCK.OFF.ME.”
The worst time for this? There’s something about sitting in a restaurant booth that results in immediate and boiling annoyance.
There’s a full three feet of fake leather sitting space. Scoot over. Let go of my arm. Drink from your own cup. Back off, kid.
The Kaiser also switches into cling mode when I write. I don’t write much when he’s awake. I recognize that my time is better spent playing. I accept that. I dig it. But sometimes I take a few minutes (like now) to write a quick blog or jot down some ideas before they flee.
And this morning, yes. I’m experiencing kid-too-close annoyance. When the Kaiser sees me settle into the leather chair and get out the laptop, he takes that as notification to commence the aggravation. He scurries up next to me in the chair. It’s a one-person chair. He scoots in behind me. I type madly and move forward, perching on the very edge. His bare feet press against my back. He squirms around. He whispers in my ear. He headbutts me. He stands on the arms of the chair. While I’m writing, I can zone it out for a while. Five minutes probably, during which I keep typing, say nothing.
And then, I’m done.
“Get off the chair.” I pick him up and deposit him on the floor. I make my mean face.
“But it’s MY chair.” He starts climbing back on.
“Cole, I swear to God if you get back on the chair, I will spank you.”
And I mean it, too. Sorta. I don’t know if he buys it, because spankings are rare and he knows he’d have to push a lot further to get to the point where hand meets ass, but he at least senses that I’m at the breaking point. He backs off. I feel immediately guilty. And so it goes.