Rinn Round-Up: Vol 7


Monday was President’s Day. Monday was also Rinn’s 100th day of school and to commemorate the occasion the kids were asked to “dress like you’re 100 years old.” Rinn must’ve interpreted this as ‘dress like you’re from 100 years ago’ because he insisted on going as George Washington and when I offered to spray his hair white he demanded he wear a white wig instead. We sprayed his hair black when he went as Elvis for Halloween two years ago and it was a huge mess so I was more than happy to oblige.

I also offered to do old people makeup; draw wrinkles on his face and nonsense. We even did a practice round on Sunday but much like my attempts at contouring, it just looked like he rubbed dirt on his face so he politely declined my services.

I picked him up from school that day and we talked about what other kids wore.

Rinn: Some kids had wrinkles on their face!

Then Rinn proceeded to explain to me, in detail, what their wrinkles looked like while reminding me how terrible my attempt was. It was all very condescending.

Rinn: How old are you?

We were just talking about wrinkles and then he asks how old I am, I knew where this was going but apparently I’m a masochist because instead of changing the subject I replied.

Me: I’m 34.

Rinn: You have a lot of wrinkles for 34.

Me: (in my best sad, trying-not-to-cry voice) Rinn, that is not very nice.

Rinn: Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re beautiful.

Me: (knowing full well he’s full of shit) Thank you, that’s very sweet.

Rinn: It’s just your neck that has a lot of wrinkles.

Jesus. Couldn’t just leave that one alone could you Rinn? I might feel like the Crypt Keeper but the silver lining, our lessons in honesty are really sinking in?


Channeling my inner Star Wars nerd, Rinn has a tendency to embrace “the dark side.”

He typically favors the villains in movies: going as Kylo Ren for halloween, owning more Decepticon Transformers than Autobots, going on and on about Darth Vadar (who insists on calling ‘Dark Vadar’), etc.

Then there was the time he woke up and was so pumped to tell me about his dream in which he shot Santa Claus “and didn’t even have to use a scope.”

Can't stop there. He was also really proud in telling us that at school he learned how Abraham Lincoln was shot in the head in a theater. (Like, can we just skip President’s Day next year?)

And let’s not forget how I was recently facetiming Rinn while at work and spent most of the time having a prolonged conversation with one of his bad guy Transformers about defeating Optimus Prime. Eventually I asked to speak to Rinn.

Me: Can I speak to my son now?

Rinn: (in his most demonic robot voice) I killed your son.

Most everyone within earshot was unnerved.

Later in the week Rinn and I were engaged in a pretty heated Nerf battle. I made the mistake of assuming he was out of ammunition and turned my back towards him. He didn’t even hesitate to fire, nailing me in the back of the head.

Me: Rinn! You hit me in the back of the head!

Rinn: Just like Abraham Lincoln!

Too soon, Rinn. Even 150 years later, too soon.


Before Valentine’s Day Rinn brought home a letter detailing instructions to make a box in which his classmates would deposit valentines and treats. An obvious job for Pinterest. I found one that wasn’t pink, didn’t have moving parts and didn’t resemble a store bought piñata. Even as a avid DIY’er, I know my limits.

Twenty minutes and one cut-up Christmas gift box later we had a “Valentinosaur” or a “dino-tine” (the actual product name is still being discussed.)

The box was done almost a week ahead of schedule (pats self on back). And while the instructions stated that it could be brought to school upon completion and put on display until Valentine’s Day, “dino-tine” sat on the counter for three days.

For three days I would get Rinn and I out the door, be well on the way to school and Rinn would burst into tears in the backseat because he forgot the box. I would spend the remainder of the drive calming him down and discussing with him responsibility and being better about remembering things.

Finally the day came where Rinn, box in hand, proudly walked out the door. But just as I pulled the door closed behind us I realized I had forgotten my phone.

Me: Shoot. Wait right here. I forgot my phone.

Rinn: You really should be better at remembering things.

Touché Rinn, touché.

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