He’s not brand new. I no longer have a receipt and warranty ends at the door. But he’s super cute, comes with a great sense of humor, a healthy dose of grumpiness that’s easily fixed with a cookie and an unhealthy fascination for dinosaurs and boxes. Takers? Anyone? Now now, don’t judge me… I gave him food for the trip, didn’t I?
What is it with kids and boxes? He’s like a kitten; he’ll see a box and no matter what size it is, he’ll move heaven and earth to squeeze his really long legs (He’s exceptionally tall. Gets it from his dad) in there in a way that is bound to be uncomfortable. Then he sits there and watches tv.
This was him right after waking up this morning and dragging an old box from the attic. Kids are weird.
He’s as good as new after a heavy dose of antibiotics. His very first antibiotics. He loved every sip of that gooey, sticky, heavily flavored and overly sweet drink. Yikes. Blood work came back and it turned out to be the remnant of a pneumonia, probably caused by the H1N1 flu he came down with several weeks ago, something I told our doctor several times before she finally took action. Never underestimate a mother’s instinct.
He’s off to school again tomorrow. Does it make me a bad mother that I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet around the house? Too bad, because I really do!
Now I gotta spring the hairdresser appointment on him because no amount of hair gel in the world can tame that blonde hair of his anymore. He’s gonna give me hell for sure.
Boys are the new girls, didn’t you know?