Why Thank You, Mrs. Cleaver.

Yesterday, we went to meet my aunt and her mother for a post-holiday breakfast.

As we sat at the restaurant waiting for them to arrive, I reminded the kids to please behave and mind their manners. You know, pretend like you have SOME home training. Please.

Jordan immediately sat back in his chair, all but put his feet up on the table, threw his head back and let his tongue hang out.

This, of course, brought howls of laughter from Chase and Tyler.

Needless to say, once our guests arrived, they acted fairly decent and managed to keep their feet off the restaurant table and their tongues inside their mouths.

Our next stop was my sister-in-laws house where my husband’s entire family, including my mother-in-law, would be present. A few minutes into our visit, I was upstairs with my kids playing pool, and Jordan was in full form. He had his I-pod going, was being silly with Tyler and Tyler’s girlfriend. Jordan started lip syncing some song by Tupac Shakur, which needless to say was not G-rated. He silently mouthed the words right up until he got to the chorus, and then by Jesus he started to loudly sing something about “booty calls and alcohol.” Of course the kids just fell out laughing at this tall white kid rapping Tupac. I was not amused, and quietly threatened him with his life if he sang that song, any of it, downstairs around grandma.

Jordan has a way with words, as I’ve mentioned many times before. Even Tyler can one minute be ready to absolutely cause permanent damage to Jordan because he’s gone into his closet for clothes, and the next minute be on the floor with tears rolling at something Jordan has just quipped.

All of this bring me to tonight.

Jordan went over to HIS girlfriend’s house. Remember, the cute little girl that he wanted to put two arms around and I limited him to one arm?

I went to retrieve him this evening, and had the opportunity to meet her parents.

After her first visit, Jordan said to me, “Wow. Her dad is BIG. And, he’s a police officer.”

I stood in their living room and chatted for a couple of minutes and both her mom and dad, yes the police officer dad, just gushed about how polite and well mannered my son is. And trust you me, they were very nice, but there is absolutely no doubt that they’re keeping watch over their baby girl. And yet her dad said to me at least three times, in a voice that said to me, “I don’t say this too often, “he’s very well mannered, he’s welcome here any time, I am very impressed with his manners.”

Guess he wasn’t singing about booty calls and alcohol at her house?

And apparently he kept his feet off the table and his tongue in his mouth (at least he better.)

Jordan just stood there, red faced, trying to look all humble.

I saw right through that act.

I thanked them, they were very nice, extremely polite.

As we walked up to the car I said, “Wow, I’m impressed. What did you do?”

And then, as if he had just stripped right out of a polite-well-mannered-child Halloween costume, he slipped right back into the normal Jordan mode, the one we all know and love.

He slid into the car, flashed me that famous Jordan grin and said, “Oh, you know. I was just being me.”

{Smile. Cha-ching Sparkle off the teeth.}

And that’s exactly what worries me.

I think I just may have birthed the next Eddie Haskell.

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