Pick any of these words: addle-pate, ass, blockhead, bonehead, boob, cretin, dimwit, dingbat, dolt, dope, dork, dumbbell, dumbo, dummy, dunce, dunderhead, fool, goose, halfwit, idiot, ignoramus, imbecile, lamebrain, loony, lunkhead, mental defective, muttonhead, nerd, numskull, retard, simp, simpleton, stoop, stupid, tomfool
They are all synonyms to moron and they all apply to my oldest son after last night’s escapade.
Frankly, I think he crossed the line from Moron to Dumbass…but that’s just me.
I know, some of you out there are gasping in shock. What a terrible mother. She called her twelve year old a dumbass! She doesn’t deserve her children! Lock her up and throw away the key.
Ah, quit your bitchin’. If you honestly feel that way, you’ve never been the mother to a twelve year old dumbass, er, boy.
Okay, back to my story. I had worked in the garden last night for several hours. Afterwards, I came inside, showered, made some dinner and vegged on the couch with the kids. We were watching one of my favorite old cartoons, The Tick.
My oldest, now known as Dumbass, thought it would be funny to antagonize his brother so he jumped up on the arm of the couch, intending to jump on his brother. Well, the dumbass gods were in charge last night and laughed at his attempted assault. Instead of going forward, gravity took over, and he fell back, off the arm of the couch, and landed smack on the bamboo flooring—on the top of his head.
He land with a sickening thud and let me tell you, it scared me to death.
I jumped up and pulled him off the floor. He was freaking out—you could see the shock on his face. (Oh how it sux when your plans backfire) He started screaming, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!”
Me: Honey, hold your hands over your head.
DA: I can’t breathe!
Me: Baby, if you’re talking, you’re breathing. Now calm down.
That seemed to reassure him somewhat. I called a friend of ours who is an ER Nurse to make sure we knew what to look for in case of concussion. His pupils had dilated, but they were quick and reactive to light. A knot formed on top of his head the size of an egg. And his back and chest were hurting.
I woke him up twice last night to make sure he woke up quickly and could talk to me. He did.
This morning, he’s slow moving and sore.
I can’t describe how worried I was when I heard him hit the floor. The only way I can get through times like these is to laugh about them. Otherwise, I’d be a nervous wreck.
Anyway, the dumbass is okay and I’m thankful. Unfortunately, he’s only 12, so I’m sure this is just the beginning of his moronic adventures.