Little Oeddie Strikes Again

N came up to our bedroom Friday morning to cuddle with me for a few minutes, as he often does.

Me: Do you know what today is?
N: No.
Me: It's my and Daddy's tenth anniversary.
Silence.
Me: Do you know an anniversary is?
N: No.
Me: It's the birthday or our marriage. We've got married ten years ago today.
N, coldly: That's not so cool.
Me: Well, I think it's cool.
N: I don't.

When we went downstairs a little later, Baroy gave me my gifts and I gave him his cards, and we opened a package from my mother (a gorgeous wedding quilt she'd had trouble with at the time and only finally finished recently, after threatening to give it up entirely). Baroy and I kissed several times during this, each one prompting a squealing, angry scream from N. "Stop doing that!" he yelled oh-so-seriously. Finally, I promised him that if we were going to kiss again, we'd warn him. But I forgot a little while later, at which point I was greeted with a screeching, squealing, full-blown temper tantrum: "You did it again guys! I don't like it! I'm not part of your family any more!" And he hid under the couch pillows.

Ah. Sigmund would be proud, no?