Last night Norma Rae was off rabble rousing, so the boys and I had a good old fashioned boys’ night. A fort was made. A fort was destroyed. A fort was rebuilt. A fort was redestroyed. A fort was rerebuilt. A fort was reredestroyed. A fight ensued. Peace was installed. Milk was consumed. A fort was abandoned to the savages. A fuse was blown. A child cooked a protein. Things were deep fried in oil. Condiments were overused. Messes were made. A good night was had by all.
Then reality sunk in. Cole started feeling shitty (In case you have not been keeping track, this is a treatment week). As it was early and I was too tired….I mean since I value art so much…. I let the boys tear into the play dough.
Logan made a dude. I know it was a dude because it had some stuff that only has a dude has. And it had butt cheeks too. (here it is appropriate to say that boys rule. Girls drool).
Oliver made a mess.
Cole made a little figure, and a toilet. The figure had food (real food mind you) in the mouth and there was food in the toilet. I asked him what he made and this is what he told me, “Well Dad, when the Greeks would get sick or hurt, they would make a figure that showed the sickness or hurt. They would put it in their house and the hurt would go away.” Umm. Ok, little man you are nine. You have not (yet) graduated from Stanford so you should not have such sophisticated thoughts. But you do, and you are awesome. #buybakingsoda
Next imaging is week of Thanksgiving. I think that someone should buy me (by me of course I mean Cole but since he is a child I will have to go with him) some tickets to the Seattle-SF Thanksgiving game.