This Hurricane of mine

Now, Hurricane is the only child that lives here and if you know me well you know why without really having to ask. But, in case you don't here it is. I have all the patience of a, well I don't have any. I never have, I am not about to get some any time soon and that is that. Hurricane knows exactly when my patience is about up and quickly responds with a shrug of the shoulders; Mom, I just love you; and a look of pity (like I might just be the ugliest thing he has seen all day). There is nothing smarter than a four year old boy. They forget NOTHING, understand that if you didn't have money for a chocolate milk with whip cream you shouldn't have money for gas, and if he can't lock the bathroom door you shouldn't be allowed to either because YOU SAID it wasn't safe and WE ALL have to be safe. Poor Beautiful (the amazing super hero who drives a fast truck, zips up a fancy green suit while leaving, and shoots bad guys) just never gets to experience the true Hurricane. He's never the ugliest thing Hurricane has seen all day, never too loud or rude, never runs out money for a chocolate milk, and ALWAYS does it right the first time. Well Hurricane, who wiped your butt last?