The Setting: In the car, leaving a local Taco joint, headed home...
The Boy: MOM! That girl was HOT!!
Boy: Did you see her? She was hot!
Me: (When did this happen? When did my baby look at an 18 year old girl and notice she was good-looking?)
Boy: Well?!? Did you see her?
Me: (Maybe if I ignore him, this will all go away)
Boy: Mom! Did you see her?! You gotta admit…she was hot!
Me: (Why?!? Oh why?!?)
What exactly made her hot? What makes a girl hot?
(Please let his answer not be vulgar, please let my baby have noticed her cute hair or sparkling personality or something else!)
This is when my baby boy looked at me with a pained expression and said: Mom, I’m sorry but you don’t have the pizzazz.
At this point we are going 65 down the highway and a small part of me wants to turn the wheel right into the bridge railing and end it all. Did he just say I don’t have the pizzazz? How can my life possibly go on? When did I lose the pizzazz? I know I used to have it, it's gotta be around here somewhere...
Once we safely cross the bridge, I turn to him and with a mothers tenderness and way with words-
I say “Excuse me?!? Huh?”
Boy: Sorry, Mom, but you don’t have the pizzazz to know the hotness
Enough said, At this point…I’ve got nothing. I was speechless then and I’m speechless now
May your conversations be half as enlightrning,
In my defense, I have the pizzazz and she was cute, but I’ll not admit that to my boy J