(They’re both thinking…”How does he live like that??”)
Well, not yet, exactly, but it’s soooo close! Christmas! No just kidding. I just mean Fall, Autumn, ghosts, goblins, (my birthday), apple picking, pumpkin carving, leaves turning (my birthday), and other such wonderful end-of-year celebrations! I’m currently watching Bella snaggle-tooth my monitor. She’s very happy tonight. Must have stolen Ed’s dinner again. She likes to keep me company at night while I type.
Anyway, Jack’s big dilemma is whether to keep wearing shorts with short sleeves, bring a jacket, or wear pants with long sleeves…because he canNOT ever wear shorts with long sleeves and vice versa. “It just doesn’t GO MOM!” Sheesh. I’ll see if he puts on the clothes I have ready for him tomorrow. Long pants and an army splotch T-shirt. That might distract him long enough to forget it has short sleeves. kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
(Whoops, Bella stretching onto the keyboard.)
Jack: I’m HOTTTTTT!
me: Put on shorts then.
Jack: Okay! But you need to help me!
Jack: Because I’m tiiiiirrrrrred. (slumps to the floor)
me: Let’s go, we’re gonna miss the bus.
Jack: (changes with a pre-historic slowness. like watching moss grow) Ohhh I’m so hot.
me: There, all done. Let’s get shoes on and out the door. (we head out to the driveway for the long walk down to meet the bus)
Jack: Heyyyy! It’s COLD out here!
Jack: You said to put shorts on!
me: Like I’m going to argue. What happens when I tell you it’s cold out and you should keep long pants on.
Jack: I don’t listen.
me: what else
Jack: I maybe cry
me: what else
Jack: I put shorts on anyway…sigh…
me: Glad you know all this. And that’s why I give you the answers that I do. Lots of practice.
Jack: Well I’m still cold!!!
me: (pulling out the surprise fleece) Ta-daaa! Mommy is always prepared!
Jack: But this is more for winter and it’s really sunny and…
me: (interrupting) Are you cold or not? If so, put it on.
Jack: (muttering) But it doesn’t go with my shorts…
me: What? Can’t hear you…
Jack: Nothing. Thanks. (starts running down the driveway)
me: Hold on! (start jogging after him)
Jack: (at the busstop) Whew! Hey Mom???
Jack: Now I’m hot. (he starts cracking up as I chase him around our neighbors yard)
And that’s just a glimpse of FIVE minutes of life with a 5-year old. And you wonder why I look like I’m 82. Man.