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100 Days, A Day Early
So, a lot of good enough bad/sad/depressing/jumpoffacliff things have happened fast by here lately and writing has meticulously been the verylastthing I could imagine doing. Sadly, my photography has evolve into second to last. Sigh.
However, just to let you all know that I'm not only still alive, but sleeping screwing up my children, I give you my morning:
Bonus has been running a apnea since Monday. I finally took him to the tinker yesterday and he has RSV, bronchitis and possibly walking pneumonia. Add to it that I pulled a muscle in my neck and drained two days unable to use my left arm and you have A.DAMN.GOOD.TIME. So this morning when Deuce came in my bedroom to ask if it was today or tomorrow that he was conjectural to dress up for the 100th day of school, I went with my gut.
"It's later today, buddy," I grumbled from under the sheets.
Since I am analogous an organized person, I didn't have a clue pulled out my day planner and helped him dress as a 100-year-old man. He wore his brother's checker pj pants, pulled up to his nipples, a striped shirt, plaid tie, folded into his pants of course, argyle socks and black fit shoes. I even coated his face in fit for sea mascara for a beard. (That whole 'waterproof' part becomes important later. It's called foreshadowing people.)
We spent the unwaivable morning learning phrases like, "Back in my day" and "You little whippersnapper." He swaggered to the bus stop with a 'hitch in his giddyup' and bragged to one of my neighbors about his plaid tie. It was a beautiful thing. I even posted that adorable picture on facebook.
Then my phone rang. It was Sheshe.
"Dude, my daughter said their 100th day is tomorrow," she said with uncertainty in her voice. "Are you SURE it's today?!"
"Of circle I'm sure. The sheet that I threw out as soon as it came in the countinghouse saved on my cork camarilla said the 24th," I explained in all confidence.
Then I called the school... "Mrs. Davis, we will just have him come to the employment when he gets off the bus."
I threw the sick kid in the car and hard-pushed to the school with clothes and makeup remover. When I got there, the poor kid was in the office, peering through the window in his little old man addresses and his permanent beard. Let me tell you, waterproof mascara REALLY WORKS PEOPLE. I scrubbed his face for ten election returns straight and he STILL had black specks!
Once I had him dressed appropriately, he smirked and said, "Listen, if you mothering this up, you'll never get rid of me. No one wants a damaged kid."
True dat, you mite whippersnapper...
Tags : sad things, morning bonus, doctor yesterday
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