Joe Francis has a protege in South Charlotte

So I got flashed by a 3 year old boy today.  It would not be so bad except he did not flash himself.  He flashed me.  And by flashed me I mean walked over and pulled up my shirt.  Luckily he is about as tall as my dog's food bag so the shirt only exposed my lily-white-I-have-had-two-kids-and-am-nowhere-near-close-to-be-mistaken-for-Pippa-Middleton stomach, but still.  His mom was all "Oh, sorry.  He does that all the time."  But I translated it to "Yeah, well, I'm not really sorry, I just do not feel like controlling him.  Maybe I am sorry.  For your belts. But whatever."  Did I mention we were in the middle of Target?  On a Saturday afternoon?  Good stuff.  I wanted to run over to the kitchen tools section, grab a wooden spoon, smack his little hand and pull him by the ear and put him in time-out right there in the school supplies section (which, by the way, is the busiest section in Target on a Saturday afternoon) but since parents get all worked up over that kind of stuff I decided the best course of action was to kneel down to his level and whisper into his little 3 year old ear that he was adopted because his real parents could not be bothered by his shenanigans.  I did not really do that but I soooooo wanted to.  Mainly because we have a little history with this kid who will either grow up to take over the Girls Gone Wild franchise or get arrested at Mardi Gras.

This is the same kid that my nowhere-near-perfect-but-cute-as-a-box-of-golden-retriever-puppies boy complained about at his little gym class.  Until this time my boy had only "I don't like . . " to certain foods (lunch meats, mustard, most vegetables, tequila*), his little sister and my choice of attire.  Then one day at the kiddo gym, the flasher kid was in his group and kept running up and pushing him and some of the other kids over, nudging them aside to get the good spot on the mat (the corner, in case you did not know) and just generally being a pain in everyone's ass.  Did the mom step up?  No.  Now she was about six/seven months pregnant but still, get your kid under control or take him out.  Of the class.  Not Soprano style. Although . . .  My boy was making some "What-the-frick-is-your-problem?" faces at the kid but did not say anything until we got in the car.  At which point I got "I don't like that blue kid." (Flasher was wearing a blue shirt.  And everyone is the color of their shirt which is cute except for the time when we were in Borders and a guy left his work on the cafe table to take a phone call outside and my boy was all "Where's that black guy going?" and had not yet  mastered his indoor volume control.)  So we talked about the blue kid and I decided it was time to teach a lesson in telling other people "don't push/hit/kick me, I don't like it" or to get Mommy/Daddy/etc or a teacher and tell them what is going on.  Or, as I taught him later that day, to say "Check yourself before you wreck yourself!" which in 2 1/2 year speak came as "Check self wreck self Blue Kid!"  I hope they teach urban colloquialisms in preschool.  Maybe I can get that in for his 4's program next year.  

*Note to CPS:  I did not really let him try tequila.  Though in an effort to be forthcoming, he did sneak a sip of my iced coffee the other day.