A Weekly Jacob Blog?

I am beginning to think that I could blog about this boy daily, but may just settle on weekly.  He certainly gives me enough material to work with.  And though it may seem like I am smiling as I type, I am not.  I am shaking my head in the continual disbelief that I am somehow remotely responsible for the ridiculousness that is Jacob.
My phone calls me Turd Longlick.  I don't have the slightest idea how to get her to call me Anne again.  I admit that Turd Longlick is a pretty damn creative name and I find myself saying 'hi' to SIRI just to hear her say hi to Turd Longlick.  In fact, I may just develop an entire backstory for Turd Longlick.  Create a Facebook page, friend Jacob.  Bother him incessantly with quizzes.  Invite him to events.  Poke him.  I doubt that would have much impact on Jacob or the things he does...to me.
Jacniss.  That is what you could call him when he comes up from the basement with plastic suction cup bow and arrow in hand.  He  stalks his sister in his version of the Hunger Games, the Dumbass Games.  This game being played at my house has taken on a little different feel than the movie (Jacob doesn't read books so we have to base all of his actions on the movie).  No one is fighting for their life, except Orlando the plant.  He got grazed with an arrow tonight.  The arrow took a crazy path when it was brushed in the air by the airplane that Ashlyn had shot at Jacob.  And by shot, I mean shot.  The airplane is pressed onto a spring until it catches on to the trigger release, when Ashlyn pulls the trigger that holds the catch that holds the plane that is pointed at her brother's face, it is shot. 
Jacob was hounding me for Mother's Day gift ideas.  I kept drawing a blank so Jacob started offering me suggestions.
"I could shank you with a stick and get you band aids for Mother's Day."
"I could punch you in the face and get you make up for Mother's Day.  You like make up."
"I could throw dirt on your pants and get you new slacks for Mother's Day."
I am beginning to think that I better come up with an idea or two for gifts or I will be bloodied, bruised and filthy come Sunday. 
I am proud to say that I got him to go to bed at 1104 tonight and it is now 1136 and I have not heard a peep from him.  It doesn't mean he is asleep and it doesn't mean I am going to go check.  It just means that there is a floor of quiet separating us and for all I know, he is in the basement watching Iron Giant with a bomb pop and frozen Girl Scout cookies. 
To know Jacob is to love him, perhaps, but it is really to understand why I am called Turd Longlick by my phone.