My son and I are watching Go, Diego, Go! Because it's just too much work to thrust this fireplace poker deep into my ear canal. My arms aren't long enough, damn it.
We saved the baby jaguar! Say it louder! Excellente!
Yesterday my boy had his five-year checkup, at the sinkhole of bacteria-coated furnishings and toys that some call "the doctor's office." Henry made sure to handle each and every board book, some of them downright soggy with god knows what, as I followed him around squirting him with Purell. Then the doctor was ready to manhandle him with his germy paws. And poke him with his virus-laden instruments.
Before we left, Henry crawled across the floor, licking it. I thought that was a bit much.
We call this foreshadowing!
So hi, today we're home with a lovely ailment. By "we" I mean "he" because I'm always here. By "lovely" I mean the hacking-cough, high-fever, aches-throughout-body kind of malaise. Henry is limping and sighing and clutching his stomach ominously. I'm calmly pushing a bucket in his direction, in case things take a turn for the volcanic. Fun times!
Luckily, as I have learned from Hasbro's newest toy for girls, it's everything I could have dreamed. See what I mean in today's Wonderland. We call this advertising!