This One Is My Favorite By Far

I've seen some good chain letters in my day, but this one is by far the best, if for nothing other than the compelling reasons for why it should be passed on. I think I'm going to start a work-at-home business of creating chain letters. I think I could be really good at it.

I hope I don't lose a job I don't even have....

Dear Friends,
Please see attached PICTURE carefully.
The President of Argentina received this picture and called it 'junk mail.' Eight days later, his son died. A man received this picture and immediately sent out copies. His surprise was winning the lottery. Alberto Martinez received this picture, gave it to his secretary to make copies but they forgot to distribute it. She lost her job and he lost his family. This picture is miraculous and sacred, don't forget to forward this within 13 days to at least 20 people. Do Not Forget to forward and you will receive a huge surprise!!

For the love of all that is true and worthwhile, do NOT call this 'junk mail.' At least not out loud.

Just As American Idol Is Ending...

Fact: Bo gradjee-ated from preschool yesterday.
Fact: My baby turns 5 tomorrow.

These two facts make my heart ache a little. I didn't feel sad at his graduation. It was hard to feel sad watching twenty 4 and 5 year olds singing and "dancing" on stage. But they had a makeup field trip to the zoo today, and saying goodbye to his teachers made me feel very sad. They are wonderful.

My friend Tiffany helped me make these really darling little boxes for Bo's teachers. I called her Sunday night for an idea, and she's all, "Oh, I just made the cutest thing..." This is why I have friends. I will NEVER answer any question, not matter what it is with, "Oh, I just made the cutest thing..."

It was the cutest thing and she totally made three of them, with matching cards, for me. I folded like, three things---actually, I "scored" them with a whale bone. Wait, did I make that up? I think I did. It's just called a bone I think. Anyway. She did everything. They were SO cute. I felt very cool and well put together giving them to Bo's teachers. One of his teachers started oohing and ahhing over it immediately. She loved it and asked, "Did you make this!?" I nodded proudly, without an ounce of shame that I was pretty much lying. I was about to sort of fess up and mention Tiffany, when Sweet Little Avee piped up in her sometimes crystal clear and loud voice, "Nooooo, my mom didn't make that! TIPPANY DID!"

I promptly swat her little tattling butt.

In the middle of writing this post I got blogger ADD and wandered over to Tiffany's blog and got the laugh and horror of my lifetime, all in one post. I wanted to steal some pictures she put up of J, but I felt like that was really just making things look better than they really are. So go and see the whole post. Please still be my friend when you are done.

And then I read this post written by my 15 year old niece. And it really made me laugh. This girl, I adore. She lives in England so I only get to see her for a millisecond in the summer, but in those brief moments, over the last few years I've gotten to see her sense of humor develop, and I'm convinced if she can be this funny at 15, by the time she's my age, she won't have any friends. They will all have died laughing. This post reminds me of a time one of my friends wrote "ultra" on her calendar to remind her of my upcoming ultrasound. Only, she forgot why she put it there and spent like 3 days trying her darndest to remember what ultra meant. You can't believe the things you can make ultra mean when you don't know what it means. :)

Bo hasn't been feeling well most of this week and hasn't been himself since a very late night camping with J on Friday night. I have been coercing information out of him like the nosey, prying mother that I am good at being. He hasn't complied. In the least. Only, tonight, he went to the bathroom and started calling out to me from the bathroom. Usually I tell him to take care of his business and then come talk to me. But since he's been so quiet lately, I just let him. He did not stop talking for 15 minutes straight. J was trying to watch Good Eats, one of his very few tv indulgences, and he couldn't. We'd think Bo was done, and he would just be pausing to wind up again. It was pretty funny.

Despite his location, I am happy to now know how his field trip to the zoo went, who he went with, and how he feels about school being over. The bathroom is a magical place in our home.

They are about to announce who won American Idol. Both of these David's are essentially from my hometown and Jay's hometown (next door neighbors), I just realized that tonight. We haven't watched a single episode of American Idol, but we must watch this finale. 5 years ago, today, my mom and J were watching Reuben and Clay battle it out. I was busy being tough, putting off an epidural. To the 2003 Nobody, "hang in there and you don't need to reward every minute of labor you experienced with a pint of Ben and Jerry's. The 2008 will curse you daily."

George Michael went from a sexy gay man who sings naughty songs you can't help singing along with, to uh....someone's dad. The hair? The glasses? You're gay GM, you can do better than that!

Oh yeah, and I totally love my kid's speech impediments. However short-lived they are.

Nobody + Gifts = ♥

I have decided that holidays like Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, and special occasions like, my birthday and our anniversary, are like 6th grade science projects for my husband. I'm wondering if this is universal.

I am a big believer in birthdays. I've loved mine since...well, since I was born. I married someone who kind of views the day as every other day. He's not a hypocrite, he feels the same about his birthday. If you tell him happy birthday, that's nice. If you don't...well, let's just say he doesn't lock himself in the bedroom and cry himself to sleep.

He hasn't had the best luck with me on various "special" occasions. The single biggest reason for that is, to him they aren't all that special. To me, I believe there should be writing in the sky. Just. For. Me.

So, after some painful (for him) heart to hearts, and long (for him) nights, and some mean, mean (for me) words, I have to say, with no hesitation, the year of 2008 has thus far been successful for my husband.

After arranging for a lovely (and definitely overpriced, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth---well, at least not his molars, it's hard to not notice the big front teeth though...) Valentine's gift to be delivered, he waited anxiously for the "reaction". Much like an 11 year old pouring the solution over the subject of an experiment, he watched with wide eyes, wondering if it really did work like he'd been told it would. His hypothesis (which was given to him by me) finally matched the experiment results. He's learned the hard way that the hypothesis "If I pretend the holiday/special occasion doesn't exist, it will go away quietly" does NOT match his test results. There were some serious explosions, near fatal injuries, and possibly even temporary hearing loss as a result of testing THAT hypothesis.

I heard him say after a successful Valentine's Day, "Wow, that really was easy. I could do this without any help from anyone. A nice basket, some good smelling stuff, mingled with some chocolate, and VOILA!"

Sad. But true.

In a side note, and in my defense, I have told him that he can have a buy for Valentine's Day. It's not that big of a deal to me. I really mean it when I say it. He really doesn't believe me. I suspect it's not a risk he's willing to take.

I did marry a smart man.

Mother's Day has been nothing shy of disastrous for us. Without going into too many details (and because my mother reads this blog), let's just say that this year, was a year of proving one's self. And of making one's self a way out of the dog house, back onto our nice, king-size, often invaded by sideways sleeping children, tempurpedic bed.

He did great. He took the kids to pick out cards and they were darling. Bo's dictation on the card was as adorable and hilarious as the boy himself. Avee's card was perfectly apropos, even though she picked it for the birds on the front. J wrote "Dear Mom, I love you. Please continue to do nice things and give me hugs and kisses like always." Even though Avee didn't dictate that, if she could have, she would have. With an emphasis on the "please continue to do nice things" part.

He accidentally got me something that I had expressed interest in a few months prior. I was so touched that he remembered. He didn't, he just got lucky, but it didn't matter after the fact.

So, nearly a week later, I'm puttering around the house pretending to clean and I'm reflecting on the lovely Mother's Day I enjoyed. And I start to recall J on that day. As I sat opening the cards, he sat across from me, watching....waiting....wondering. I saw the look of, "Well, I'll be, THAT was the right solution to pour over the subject" as my face brightened and my smile remained through out the day. I saw him walk away scratching his head, shaking it, undoubtedly thinking, "Now who would have thought that was all it took?"

I know we are a mystery. Yesterday I watched a movie where a man asked a woman, "What do you want!? What is it that woman want!?" The woman leaned in and said, "We don't know either."

Sometimes I feel like that's true. Especially after I said to my husband this week, after coming home 2 hours later than he said he would, "It would have just been better if you'd never called to tell me when you were coming home!" Now, that made perfect sense to me. I expected him at 7 when he said he'd be home. He came home at 9. I was mad. I feel sorry for the guy when I get like that. Of course, he could just come home at 6 and there would be no problem whatsoever, right?

I married a great guy. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't know how great he is, and there isn't a day that goes by that I am not grateful to be married to such a good person.

Mostly I'm glad he believes in the scientific process, and works it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have an anniversary coming up in a few weeks; there are many unrealistic and unexpressed expectations I need to get to work on....

While Wrestling (gently) With Bo

I'm gonna honk you up mom!"

Honk me up? What does that mean?

It's a joke, see, "honk!" it's a funny joke!

Uhhhh, I don't get it.

You know, instead of saying 'I'm gonna beep you up', I said, 'I'm gonna honk you up!'

"If You Don't Mess Around, You Won't Have to Say 'I'm Sorry' "

On Friday morning I thought to do a post about my mother this weekend, in honor of Mother's Day.

A few minutes later my mom called me with a "short speech". She gives it every year. At least I think it's every year. I hardly pay attention. It's something about how she doesn't want us doing anything, she's fine, I gave her a mother's ring and she loves it and then this thing, and blah, blah, blah, she wants for nothing more than to have me for a daughter....

She ended her spiel with, "You may want something different for yourself on Mother's Day, and you should have it. If you want your children to kneel at your feet, that's how you can have it..."

I interrupted, "Funny you should say that--right now Bo is kneeling at my feet as I wipe his bum."

He really truly was. I am invoking the don't-ask don't-tell policy on my blog with why I am still wiping my almost 5 year old boy's bottom. (Just so you know, I have given the edict that I will not be doing such things once he turns 5---yesterday I tried to encourage him to "practice" and he yelled, "I'M NOT FIVE, I AM ONLY FOUR AND ELEVEN MONTHS!")

Anyone who knows me IRL knows that I am a huge fan of my mom. I feel like I scored a million times over in the mom department. She is wise. She is witty. She is smart. She is savvy. She is talented. She is practical. She loves pink. She is faithful. She is compassionate. She is many things to many people, but her kids are mostly just glad she's our mom.

My mom is 72 years old. At a carnival one of those age-guessers guessed her at 63. I'm not sure what 72 really looks or acts like, but I am certain that number doesn't reflect the energy and youthful looks of my mom. I had hopes of inheriting those attributes, but it's not looking so good for me already.

A little over 3 years ago my mom had some important decisions to make regarding her health and everyone was telling her what to do. After hearing about everyone trying to boss her around, J said to me, "Ang, your mom is 70 years old, she can do whatever she wants." When I repeated that to my mom, hoping to make her feel empowered by J's comment, there was a long pause. Then I heard her voice, slow and deliberate, "Tell that brat he's being taken out of my will. I am not 70."

When my brother Daniel was in elementary school she stitched on the back of his off-brand jeans "Danache" to compete with the rage of "Jordache". He was a hit in the 6th grade.

She will tell you if you are wearing the "wrong" colors. If you don't know what that means, you've never met my mom.

In my family, we pride ourselves on being funny. Being the funniest, is all we ever want in life. We can be disgusting, illiterate, slobs, but if we are funny---we have achieved. We had a rule growing up, "It's funny the first time, the second time it's stupid, and the third time, you get slapped." We learned early that being funny was a talent not to be abused.

It wasn't until I was about 19 that I realized it was my MOM that was the funny one. I had spent so much time demanding things from her, thinking she was totally unhip, wishing she wasn't out to ruin my life, that I never stopped to realize how completely hilarious she is.

She is the master of joking with a completely straight face. Sometimes it gets her in trouble. Once at church she approached my friend and her husband and said, "This isn't your pew, what are you doing sitting here, you're going to throw everyone off!" She was mortified when she turned back a minute later and saw them moving to another pew.

My mom always assumed I was faking when I was a little kid. I probably was. However, when I was about 10, after feeling sick all day , she came home and asked, "Did you practice the piano today?" I moaned about how sick I was and she started to comment on how convenient it was that I was sick when it came time to practice the piano or do my chores. I promptly yakked in her rose bushes. I remember feeling vindicated that I could do it on cue like that. (First time I had ever thrown up in my life!)

I went inside to sulk on the couch and got sick again. I ran to the bathroom, but being an inexperienced yakker, I missed. I left it all over her bathroom floor and returned to the couch to sulk. I showed her!

A few minutes later I heard my mom yelling, "What on earth!? You're no kid of mine! MY children don't MISS!" Looking back, I think that is so dang funny. At the time, I was so mad. Of all the times to finally agree that I WAS adopted...

I never thought twice about the mess I had just left all over the bathroom. She silently cleaned it up and let me sulk in peace. I never realized the work she did to keep our house running, to mend our clothes, to soothe our hearts and minds, to teach us to read, to be respectful, to say our prayers, to mind our manners, to love God, to be kind, to work hard, to be a good person, to change our underwear, in case we're ever in a car accident, to clean our rooms, to feed us healthy meals, to keep us in clean and fitting clothes, to work hard, to memorize scriptures, to do a hundred other things that mothers do that don't get put on resumes or certificates of achievement.

When I was in the 5th grade I got nailed in the face with a whiffle ball. Don't judge man, those things are brutal. My face sort of exploded with blood. I had blood all over me. I was quickly rushed to the nurse's office, which was through the main office where my mom happened to be passing through at the same time. The gym teacher stopped abruptly, I'm certain anticipating a freak out from my mom. With my head tipped back, peering through eyes blurred with involuntary tears and past all the blood, I looked to my mom. My 8th born self fantasized she would sob and wave her arms frantically yelling, "Mah baby, whatevah happened to mah baby!" She looked me up and down with her usual straight face, turned to the gym teacher and said, "Is it a tooth?" The teacher said no.  "Good," said my mom and she walked away. I laughed. I knew better than to expect anything more than practical or necessary.

When my mom reads this, she'll say this never happened. She thinks I embellish. If I were to embellish, it SO would not be a whiffle ball that made me bleed like a stuck pig. I'm just sayin'.

When I was in the 6th grade I won a speech writing contest and had to give the speech in front of my whole school and the Mayor of my town. My mom made me dress in a horrific outfit that I knew would make me the laughing stock among children and grown-ups alike. I'm not sure how she persuaded me but I showed up with the ruffly shirt and vest and velvet skirt, and somehow survived. All the adults complimented my outfit--a lot. It was then, at the tender age of 11 that I realized, perhaps my mom wasn't completely clueless.

Whenever we saw an accident or ambulances at a scene, she taught us to look away. "If you were the one hurt, you wouldn't want people staring at you in that condition." Now, as an adult, I wish more people had moms who told them that.

When I was about 14 I had a few friends over one night to hang out. We were sitting around the coffee table playing a game. My mom was pounding out a song on the piano, background music of my childhood. My mom shouted above the notes she was playing loudly, "I want this played at my funeral, but I want to change the words to the 3rd verse." I heard phrases like this my entire life. It hardly registered in my brain. I looked up from whatever I was doing and saw the horrified looks of my friends. That was fun.

When I was 16 my mom trusted me to make good choices. Her trust in me compelled me to make good choices.

When I was 21 I served a mission for my church. I was gone for 18 months. My mom wrote me every single week of my mission without fail. My friends came to love the letters from my mom. They were always filled with scuttlebutt, completely irrelevant to me. But very funny. She had helped a friend "pound out the final draft" of a paper. She commented, "It was a lot of bump and grind near the end." I remember gasping and then practically convulsing with laughter when I read that. My childhood is fraught with her misusing phrases like that. This one however, she got "educated" on by my sister, but didn't feel it warranted a true edit.  At the end of the letter, a small arrow pointing to the "bump and grind" phrase, she wrote, "Sara says this doesn't mean what I think it means---I thought it referred to the polishing of rocks. I guess not."

When I finished my mission, my mom came to meet me and travel home with me. She wanted me to show her around and give her a guided tour, like I had been doing for the last year and a half for perfect strangers. I was too embarrassed and wouldn't do it. I regret that immensely now, but as much as my mom may have wanted it, she didn't pressure me and let me make my adult decision. Even if it was dumb.

3 years ago my mom was diagnosed with colon cancer. She had come to Utah to help me with the birth of Avee. Even though my mom was 69 and I was 29, the woman could do circles around me with productivity. Her visits are coveted, vied for, schemed for, pled for, dreamed about, and truly cherished.

Two weeks after she came to Utah and 9 days before Avee was born she was in the hospital scheduled for surgery. In one short afternoon after Storytime with Bo, we had an urgent care visit, ER visit, and hospital admission. I'm sure she was scared, but she encouraged me to take my 22 month old home so he wouldn't miss his nap and so I could get a break.

She was in the hospital recovering from surgery when I was one floor below delivering Avee. Two days later J drove home all three nigh-helpless girls. We had a grand time "recovering" together. I was fine, but I'm a hypochondriac, so I alternately acted like a newborn or like I was recovering from major surgery.

All of J's and my goals in life are geared toward one end, "How can we get Grandma Cheryl to come and live with us?"

When I make mistakes in parenting, which I rarely do, my mom kindly and non-judgmentally explains why what I'm doing might not be the most effective. She has helped me become a better parent in so many ways.

I can call her for no reason and we can talk for an hour about nothing.

She doesn't get offended when I am bratty or tell her how it is with all my infinite wisdom. Sometimes she thinks I'm insightful, and sometimes she tells me to go jump in a lake.

When I gripe about one of my siblings, she changes the subject.

She gets excited with me when Avee gets potty-trained.

She taught Bo to read.

She tells me the truth.

She knows who my friends are and loves them too.

She can dress entirely in pink and not look ridiculous.

When she laughs really hard, you can't help laughing too. Even if you don't know what you are laughing about.

She is passionate about thrift store shopping. And she's really good at it.

She is the guardian of a mentally retarded woman who is just a few years younger than her. She makes sure she is well cared for, clean, dressed well, has a good birthday, spends time with people, and is loved. Most people don't even know she does this.

If we say we need her (even if it's more want than need), she comes. Even if it isn't convenient.

She adores her grandchildren and they adore her.

She is the single most wonderful woman that I know. If there is one blessing I couldn't live without, it is the blessing of having her as my mother.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I promise I didn't embellish.

Just Some Random Stuff

Sooooooo, once upon a time I was articulate, introspective, and sometimes could present a cohesive, thought-out post. I haven't felt that ability in some time now. I just keep thinking of all these little things I'd like to put on, but can't ever think of anything to wrap it up in to make it presentable.

So, without further ado, another unwrapped post. These are all things that have made me laugh heartily.

Overheard:
Avee: "I already ate the candy! Like it o' not, it's already gone!"

J: "I think she might be pregnant. She's either pregnant or totally crazy."

A Random Mother: "Yeah, his tooth is loose, it's pretty close to coming out. I'm going to have to make an appointment with the dentist to have it pulled." (At this point I stared at her in a kind of "I have no response to that" way) and she quickly added, "You just never know these days."

Uh, yeah-- because recently, there was an outbreak of 1st graders ending up in comas after pulling out their own loose tooth.

Read: "

Out Of Gas!

Most of you who read my blog, know that my Mom has recently had her knee replaced. A couple of days ago I went over to her house to see her, and we got to talking about Parker's party. We talked about cakes, and I asked her if she wanted to go to Wal-Mart with me, to check on prices. She agreed, if we could stop at Sams too. So off we went. Now I know what you are thinking... "They ran out of gas on the way to the store." I only wish, believe me it would have been less embarrassing!

OK, so we get into Sams and we notice that there are no automated wheel chairs (I am not sure if that is what they call them. They are the ones you drive.) There were none left. So, I told mom I would push her, and she told me that, she would just walk, that it would look funny if I pushed her. So after a few minutes of arguing of what we were going to do. An automated wheel chair became available. So we DRIVE around the store getting the few items that we needed, and visited with the ladies in the bakery, and decided that this would not be the place to purchase a cake, we started to DRIVE back, to check out. Yes! That is when in mid-sentence, I look behind me to see where mom was, and she was stopped in the middle of the isle, by the bakery. For those of you who visit Sams, know that the bakery is in the back of the store. Our conversation went something like this...

Me: What are you doing?
Mom: I stopped. I think I am out of gas.
Both laughing.

Me: Get up and walk.
Mom: No, I can't. You will have to push me.
Me: Seriously?
Both Laughing.

So, I start to push her. Both of us are laughing uncontrollably.

Me: I am so glad we decided not to get a regular wheel chair, because this is so much easier to push and a lot less humiliating. I just want to crawl under a rock and hide right now.
Mom: Stop! I can just walk.
Me: Forget it now...This reminds me of a scene straight out of a Jim Carey movie.
Mom: "Dumb and Dumber."
Me: My thoughts exactly.

We were both laughing so hard. I was just glad that there were not too many people there. It has been a while since I have been that embarrassed. My mom and I seem to have these kind of moments often, when we are together! "

And: A couple of months ago I may have "bragged" about Avee's "mad lipstick applying skills" and MommyJ may have said something about wanting to see those skills. Well, I always meant to catch some footage of it and post it, but never took the time to do it. Until today. And I must say, I stand corrected. She must have just been lucky the 2 or 3 times I actually watched her apply lipstick a couple of months ago.





And here now, we will venture into TMI land. Come with me, won't you?

Avee is officially potty-trained. Words cannot expression the joy I have in making this statement. I call it official because, she has tasted of the sweet fruit that is a clean, non-rustling rear-end, and she will not go back. She stops playing and takes herself to the bathroom. She goes to the bathroom in other people's homes and in public places. And while she likes to check out the "wares" and give them names, "That one looks like its a tow-tul!" I can't be bothered by this slightly bizarre behavior. All I can hear in my head is the delightfully sunshiney song over and over, "I don't have to clean this off of her, I don't have to buy her diapers..." There's more to that song, but I don't want to make paid songwriters feel bad by my off the cuff songwriting skillz.

So, she's getting a bike. Probably tonight. There was a little scare the other day when she didn't want to go to the bathroom and I was pressuring her to go "try". Tired of me pressuring her, she said, "I don't really want a bike anymore." I thought all hope was lost. But, we got it back together fast. I just told her that I was still going to buy the bike, but I was going to give it to Bo.

I'm quick on my feet like that.

Parenting Expertise: Not Here

Yesterday we went to the store to get some milk, green peppers, red onion, and toilet paper. We went by way of the bicycle department. Bo's got a birthday coming up (I hope he doesn't read this!) and Avee's got some diapers she needs to get out of. I had actually resolved to just let Avee go to jr high in diapers, based on her whole age regression wishes. But then we had to go buy more diapers and I get all fired up every time we have to do that.

So, I didn't actually think of a bike for Avee when we went there, but she hopped on some little princess, glittery, dangly-things galore bike and whipped around the aisles; annoying all the parents who keep tighter leashes on their kids and all the old people who think children should be seen and not heard. On any given day, I'm one of those people.

When it was time to go, she started wailing about wanting a bike. I took her face in my hands and over the incessant wail of "IwannabikeIwannabikeIneedabikegimmethatbikenooooo" I said, "You start wearing big girl underwear and going potty in the toilet, then we will get you a bike."

This kind of stuff works with Bo. He gets it. He gets that he has to show progress for the award. Avee---not so much.

Since we've been home (yesterday at 3pm), this is about how the conversations go. All. the. time.

Avee: Mom! I goed poop, give me a bike!
Mom: You have to keep doing that and keep underwear clean for a lot of times, and then we'll go get a bike.
Avee: I'll stay by you in the store! Come on!
Mom: You have to keep your underwear on everyday and keep them clean for a long time and then we'll go get a bike.
Avee: Mom! I have on inuh-weyoh and I didn't pee on Cyoh-ee-us Jodge, I didn't. Let's go get a bike.
Mom: Blah blah underwear clean blah blah long time blah blah!
Avee: Come on Mom! Here's yo shoes.
Mom: (Loud sigh) Help?
Avee: Let's go get a bike mom!

It's times like this, and this happens a LOT, that I wonder if she really doesn't get it, or if she's just smart enough to know she should act like she doesn't so we feel bad for her and don't keep the same standard of expectation with her. J thinks it's the latter.

We have become Youtube junkies at night. Right now Avee is chasing Danyo around the house calling him Chawlie and trying to get him to bite her finger. Even when he doesn't comply she yells out, "Chawlie bit my fingah! That isn't nice Chawlie!"

Danyo has been taking steps for a while now, but just figured out this week that walking from place to place might actually be faster than always crawling. So, he's venturing out on his own. Only, he didn't get the memo that "Ability to walk sometimes does not equal ability to go down stairs upright, trying to hold on to banister you can't actually reach." Yeah, he just totally ate it down about 5 stairs. On the upside, he got down one stair before falling. So that's like, a little less painful---right?

And Bo? Well, his first words this morning were, "Yessssss! It's not raining!" Even though it had been all night and was totally overcast and wet outside. That very moment---it was not raining. Now that's a glass is half full kind of guy. Of course, it started pouring rain in about 20 minutes and his field trip to the zoo was inevitably cancelled. He had a lot of warning that it might be, but a zoo-less day comes hard to a 4 year-old's heart.

Before J left for work he told Bo, "If your field trip gets cancelled because it rains, I will take you to the zoo when it's not raining and we'll ride on the train too. If your field trip doesn't get cancelled, I will just do my usual and sit on the couch and watch tv and do nothing with you." If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was making a statement about my parenting. Either way, it made me and Bo laugh.

The End.