In the past week he has told me,

1. “I hope they have meerkat races at the zoo this summer.”
2. “When we go to Mexican to eat, I want a cheese quesadilla AND a hamburger.  With some chicken on it.”
3. “Can you get me a new shirt?  With a dragon on it?  In fact, I want TWO dragons.”

The best one was on the way home from preschool this week when we were stopped at a train.  Adam was explaining whey he wanted to get on that train and go to New York City:

The most bizarre thing from last week was Adam’s assertion that there was a “dead fox head” in the yard and Ismael’s confirmation that “yeah, there’s something dead out there.  Don’t let Adam outside.”

Don’t let him outside?  For how long?  Until that dead thing rots away? Until a buzzard carries it off?  What?

Still not believing the veracity of his claims, I had to get a look at it myself.

Indeed.  It was dead.  It was the top half of one our beloved “squirrel friends” as Adam calls them. I have no idea what took off with the business end of that squirrel, but Lorie maintains that a hawk took off with it in a “to-go” bag.

Bon Appetit!

Mommy?  he says directly in my right ear,  I have a secret.

mrosufpmph, I reply into my pillow.

I love you.

mormmpssph.

Approximately 30 seconds after that:

Mommy?  he says directly in my right ear,  I have a secret.

mrosufpmph, I reply into my pillow again.

I loooooooooooooove you.

mormmpssph.  Go to sleep little boy.

By some miracle of heaven, he lays down and sleeps for two more hours.  At 8:30 I’m a little more ready to face the day, a four year old, and play nice.

Adam? I have a secret!

What mommy?

I LOVE YOU!

Mommy?  I have a secret too!

What baby?

I thought you were going to die.

WHAT?!

I also had a dream about horses.

What? Wait.  Go back to that dying thing.  What was going to make me die?

A dromeosaurus.  AND a T-REX.

I would like to announce to the entire Internet, since Ismael isn’t home right now, that I WAS RIGHT and perhaps that realistic dinosaur show he found on Amazon Prime wasn’t necessarily 4 year old appropriate.

Meanwhile, I’m going to check under the covers for prehistoric land walking creatures.

Mommy?  Pigs don’t turn into food.

Yes, they do.

No… they don’t mommy.

Yes, what do you think bacon is (besides delish?) or sausage?

Well, Mommy.  What kind of animal doesn’t turn into food?

A robin.

Then, I’M A ROBIN!

Socrates he is not, but I find it hard to argue with his four year old logic.

.000045 seconds later, Adam was in bed with me full of Tigger like bounciness and lots of things to say.  Somehow I held on for another 30 minutes and eeked out 10 minutes more of sleep in that time.

Sundays.  A day of rest, indeed.

We carried on as normal until 11 AM.  And by carried on as normal, I mean “fried a pound of bacon while the Muslims were asleep or absent from the premises.”  It’s a Sunday morning ritual almost.  I shooed Adam out the door to find this:

Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?

Oh well, isn’t THAT special?  No church for this lady today.  Back inside to call roadside assistance, explain that no, I am not at a business but my home and then sit and wait for a guy in a red Chevy Cavalier to show up with a shocking number of tools in his trunk and change that tire.

Three and one half hours later, I had entertained Adam as much as possible as I could at Wal Mart and had spent $200 on two new tires for the front of the van.  The flat tire on the back of the tire in the picture? DIDN’T HAVE A LEAK, A HOLE, OR ANYTHING WRONG WITH IT WHATSOEVER.  I guess it is just attention seeking and really wanted its portrait taken.

I came home to wearily put dinner in the oven.  I chopped, arranged, and prepared the roast and veggies for baking, but where was Adam.  When this child has disappeared it means he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to…eating crackers in my bed, ordering pricey videos on the Kindle or operating an international money laundering business.

I found him in my chair, clutching a small blue key ring.  I bought juice, rice, and coffee creamer at WalMart.  Not a key ring and of course, not the toaster that would have sent me there in the very first place.

Oh yeah…. five finger discount baby.

And he knew.  Before he saw the look on my face, he knew.  I took away his purloined treasure and put him in his room for a double time out and then told him,

Your punishment is no tv all night.  You will play in your room until dinner OR you can sit on the bed.  If you don’t like it, then you can go to bed for the night.

I don’t like any of those three options! (along with the death stare from a very angry little boy.)

Oh yeah?  Well that’s nice.  And tomorrow?  We are taking that back to the store where you STOLE IT FROM.  ::insert long speech about thievery, disappointment and God is watching you::

********************************************************

Baby Book Entry:  Aged 4 1/2 years, committed his first act of petty thievery.

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Mommy!  I want a pet.

I’m driving and not paying a whole lot of attention to the backseat chatter.  I know it’s brought on by the anticipation of next week’s preschool pet store trip and the knowledge that he’s allergic to cats and dogs….

Um hmmm… honey.  A pet?

Yes!  I want a hamster. I would love him… and feed him…

(and call him George? I wonder to myself)

and give him a ……….. Mommy!  Can hamsters swim??

NO!  Do not give your fictional hamster a bath!!

1. Eat chicken soup.  Make your own bone broth and add garlic and ginger.  They have antibacterial, antiviral properties.
2. Drink tea and lots of other fluids.  Use raw, local honey because it has antibacterial, antiviral properties.
3. Stay away from others to avoid the spread of the virus.

Last weekend, I tried all three of these.  All weekend long.  I also tried these:

• Cursing loudly at everyone in the house.
• Repeating ad nauseum that “I am sick.  Stay away.”  This mostly resulted in a preschooler rubbing his face on me every moment of the day.
• Coughing on everyone else’s chicken soup as I made it.

You find a lot less support for my tactics on the Internet.

By Monday, at 3:15 PM I was slumped in the corner of the doctor’s office while Adam (who also had a fever, but acted like a cracked out rock star the minute the Advil kicked in to lower fever) watched Octonuats on my phone and I pretended it was educational programming when the doctor walked in.

Octonauts.  It’s about sea life and stuff.  Totally not a cartoon on Disney that holds his attention in almost any situation.

Ten minutes later, Adam had moved on to taking the good doctor’s picture while he pecked away on the computer and I continued sniveling and hacking in the corner, despite the fact I had helped myself to one of Adam’s breathing treatments before we left.

Oh Heeyyyy…..Dr. K.  Can I also have something with Codeine in it?  I’ve been a good girl; I swear.

Five days later, I am home with Adam again whose fever has been as persistent as a door to door evangelist and I literally thought of myself, “What is that noise?  Sounds like pigeons’ cooing.  OH wait.  That’s my lungs.”

Stay healthy people.  If you dare.

Good morning.

This morning I have so many people I would like to thank.

First to my beloved son, who took three bedtime “tuck-ins” before staying put last night only to wake me at 2:20 AM to tell me, “I don’t like my bed.”

Then, to my old friend insomnia.  I am so glad Adam brought you to see me!  Old friend!!

And you, Ford Taurus.  Your timing this morning. Well, it’s something of comedic genius.  How you managed to both freeze the windows shut and the car door latches open at the same time was really something else.

Oh and Wal-Mart, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.  I know that we have a rocky relationship at best and that mostly I think you are giant asshole, but who else can I turn to at 3:30 AM when I cant’ sleep and need milk, snacks for Adam’s school, salt for the water softener and apparently WD 40 for the above mentioned #*#&$^% door locks.  Yes, you.  And you never disappoint in your ability to just really disappoint, because at 4:15 AM, what I really want to do is SELF CHECK EIGHTY DOLLARS WORTH OF GROCERIES ALL OF WHICH ARE TOO MUCH TO FIT ON YOUR &$*(#$*(@ BAGGING PLATFORM.  You make something in the neighborhood of ga-gillion dollars a year in profits, we can’t have one overnight checker?

I would also like to thank all of the degenerates out there who do God knows what with WD -40 so that when I scan it in the self check the computer goes wild with “NEEDS STORE AUTHORIZATION” but yet there is no one around to actually authorize it.

And finally, the makers of an electronic cigarette for their HIGH-LAR-EEEEE-OUS commercial this morning after I finally got home where the gruff, unshaven chap puffs away on some electronic device and says,     “C’mon…we’re all adults here…”

Are we? Really? Because you, sir, are trying to smoke what can best be described as an electronic toy.

*exit stage left to thunderous applause*

Ineffective:

Me to Ismael on New Year’s Eve:  Come watch tv with me.

Ismael:  ………..

Me: Why are you so cranky??

Ismael:  Because we’re broke.

Me:  Well yes, but I didn’t ask for a steak dinner, a broadway play, and a babysitter.  I asked you to watch tv with me. I guess we should just rend our garments and sit around in sack cloth and ashes.

Classic mistakes here.  In asking for what I wanted, I didn’t offer anything he wanted.  Clearly that would have been a financial incentive, however, it feels so wrong to throw your husband a twenty just to watch tv with you.

Effective:

Me, instant messaging Ismael from another room:  If you give Adam a bath, I will go clean his room.

::Cue the sound of water running::

Frankly, I knew that both had to be done and I simply didn’t have the energy left to do both.  All of this being sick on vacation really drains a person, you know.

Adam can be a tougher nut to crack.  He doesn’t want much, really.  He’s content to throw toys all over the living room and steal cheese from the refrigerator at will.  I have discovered his currency though:

I can get him to do any thing for a single saltine cracker.  Pick up toys?  Yes, mommy.  Brush your teeth?  Noooo problem.

I think I’ll stock up.

Look Mommy!  Santa brought us the plague! and Snow!  Whee!

In the past two weeks we have dealt with flu virus, sinus infections, and one sinus infection that turned so wrong within 24 hours that it began leaking out of Adam’s eyes. When the doctor’s assistant greets your child with “Whoa!…”  you know it’s bad.  Just as I thought we were all past it, I’ve caught something myself.  I’ve been upright and showered for two whole hours now. I might add that at the time of this writing it is 5:38 in the PM.

At the same time, we are dealing with this:

It didn’t look *that* bad out there, despite the blizzard conditions.  We live in some weird wind tunnel that had our driveway swept clear in some spots…except where it wasn’t.  We learned, too late, that the 7.5 inches of snowfall had drifted about 2 feet tall in the middle of the drive.

Though we had already made arrangements to have it cleared and were waiting on that individual to arrive, living directly on a major road has some draw backs.  Namely, if you do not clear your drive fast enough, random individuals  will show up at your back door  asking “Do you want us to shovel your drive?” and “Can I see my Aunt Tashie? She lives here.”

More snow is forecast for tonight.  I can’t wait to see what this brings.