The evils of caffeine

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For months, MrMan, at random moments will share, “I don’t want to be a man.”

We try to reassure him that manhood is in the distant future and that he should focus on the present. He does seem to enjoy being a boy, but I can’t figure out what seems so unappealing about being a man.  I guess I should ask, next time it comes up.

Yesterday, he crafted a solution in that noggin of his.  He and I were on the shuttle bus, almost to the gym*.  He suddenly shifted from greeting the approaching gym, to his common refrain of, “I don’t want to be a man.” Which he then followed with, “When I turn five, I want to drink caffeine, so I can stop growing.”

I’m glad you’ve been paying attention, MrMan, but I regret to inform you that, 1) I will not give you caffeine, and 2) I’ve exaggerated its effects. Nice try!

*My new trick to get myself there is to get MrMan after work and get us on the shuttle bus, straight to the gym. I’m accountable to MrMan, who enjoys the babysitting services there, and I’ve already committed to meeting Sam at the gym instead of at work.

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