Motherhood is ...

Losing it.

Jo-Jo, my four year old, cracks me up.

I wonder sometimes where he comes up with his "material."

I practically lost it.  Twice today.

First was this morning.  We were driving through our sitter's neighborhood, there was a leftover pumpkin on someone's mailbox.  The following conversation occurred: (I'm having to translate his "Joepanese" language a little.)

J:  I want to hit that.

Me: What Joe?

J:  The punk'in on that house mailbox.

Me: Ok?  Why?

J:  With a bat and smash to pieces.

Me:  Seriously Joey?  Why?

J:  Because it'd be fun.  Punk'in smashin'. YAY!

Oh. Good. God.  I think we're screwed.

Then this evening, on the way home from the sitter's house.  We've got Shrek currently in the DVD player in the car.  At this point, Fiona is talking about meeting her prince charming and getting true love's first kiss:

J:  Ew gross.

Me:  What's gross?

J:  True love.

Me:  No it's not Joey.  It's a beautiful thing.

J:  Kisses are gross.

Me:  Are girl's gross?

J:  Yeah.  I punch'm.

Me:  WHAT?  You don't punch girl's Joey.

J:  No.  Punch true love.

Me:  You show your true love by punching?

J:  Maybe.

Me:  You don't show me lovin's by punching.  You give me kisses and noggins and noses.

J: That not true love.

Me:  Well, what is it then?

J:  That's mama lovin's.

Me:  Ohhhhhh, ok.  But Joey, don't punch girls or true love, ok??

J:  Oh awright.

Oh that child...

Even if it was a Throat Punch Thursday for me... he still makes me lose it.  And I'm ok with that.