We attended my mother-in-law’s funeral service a couple of weeks ago.  Before we left, I had a quiet word with my five-year-old about my expectations for his behavior at the cemetery, and I reminded him of those expectations once we got there.  He performed admirably.

This sort of behavior– today, at Arlington– would not have gone over well.  We would have had words, and had them quickly.  My son– who is, again, LITERALLY FIVE FUCKING YEARS OLD, is better behaved at solemn events in public than this… person.  So was every single one of the dozens of seventh and eighth grade students I have taken on tours of the place. 

It’s fucking unhealthy how much I hate him.  I thought I hated George W. Bush.  I had a shirt that said so, and I wore it! A lot!  

That was fucking tee-ball, Pampers pull-ups hate compared to this shit.

ADDENDUM: Also, it seems pretty clear that he doesn’t know all the words to the anthem.  Yes, I can be pissed about that too.