Snark

Oh, I so wasn’t ready for this.

Granted, I should have been prepared. First, there is an older brother in the household, and he is full of snark these days, in a way that only a brooding teenage son can be.

Do you know that it is still so damn disconcerting to admit—even to myself—that I have a teenage son? What? That’s just plain crazy. There’s no way that anyone would ever mistake me for having a teenager.

Then, you couple the older brother with the fact that everything that other children do, Ant’s got to do faster, bigger, better.

Finally, you take a quick look at his mother.

After giving that some thought, you realize that the snark was going to appear sooner, rather than later.

The snark has appeared, tentatively, sneaking surreptitiously into everyday conversation.

“Oh, whatever, Mom!”
“Really!”
“Come on!”
“Gimme a break!”

You have got to be kidding me. My sweet, sweet boy has developed the sarcastic tone. The eye roll, sigh, door slamming, and stomping are soon to follow.

Hopefully, it remains at home for the next few years, and does not rear its ugly head in public, or at school.

Likely, huh?