Back when I had a job, I saw one of my favorite partners crying one morning. The mere fact that one of us was crying was not strange, it was a crazy year and the mountain of stressful work caused at least one person to break down and lose it each day. I asked Margot what was wrong, and, surprisingly, her tears were not work related. She said that she had a tough morning with her kids and the last thing her son said to her was, “I hate you.” I was shocked to hear that a kid could hate someone as sweet as Margot, and chalked it up to a tumultuous home life. Certainly, if we ever had a kid, our child would never, ever say anything like that to us.
Until now. Malcolm drops, “I hate you’s” like a democrat drops balls. 
(That is in no way meant to be gross, what I mean by that is that democrats are constantly dropping the ball. Take health care, for one. Actually, name one good thing that the Democrats have done, and I will tell you that they should have done it better. But, I digress.) Malcolm came home from summer school today and wanted hot chocolate. I told him that it was too warm for hot chocolate, then he said that he wanted chocolate milk. I told him too many sweet will give him yuckmouth. He erupted into tears and wailed the whole way home. When we got home, he screamed at the top of his lungs and said that as long as I didn’t give him chocolate milk, he would hate me.
Before that, he told me he hated me when I took the toothbrush out of his hand as he was attempting to dislodge my eyeball with it. On several occasions, he has told me that he hates me because I don’t let him watch enough shows on TV. I have been hated for requiring that we play baseball in the shade on a hot day and for not buying him a toy at the drug store. Once, he hated on me first thing in the morning when I asked him if he loved both his mommy and his daddy. It appears that I am hated quite often.
I am hoping that this is a stage that he is going through. By being independent enough to hate the hand that feeds him, he is showing me that he is growing up. I am all for that, I just wish he could display his newfound independence in another way, like smoking or doing drugs . When your entire job revolves around caring for someone and that someone doesn’t care for you, it hurts. It hurts a lot, like getting your eyeball gouged out with a toothbrush. I would say that next time I will allow him to gouge the eye, but he would only find another reason to hate. They always do.
Tags: Malcolm misbehaves
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God, I miss the XFL
We love you even if he hates you.