So…in the last 45 minutes, the Terror has:
- screamed in protest and ugliness at his brother (the Goldfish had a new toy that the T wanted. ugh.),
- wacked the dog on the head with his truck,
- thrown Hank’s watch (yes, the expensive one) across the room and into the wall,
- slung chocolate milk across my office,
- shot a slingshot backwards so that the slingshot part crashed across my desk and into my monitor,
- and stood in the corner at least five times, in one-minute increments.
Lord, help me. Please have mercy on my soul, forgive my thoughts, protect me from my child and him from me, etc. etc.
In the meantime, I’ve been looking lovingly at these, our November pictures from Kim Jones Photography, to remember what he’s like when he’s cute and irresistible. I’m quite sure it’s extending his life today.
At least until his father gets home.
Please enjoy them with me.
Locked and loaded, baby. About to douse the kids with leaves and lots of ’em. Awesome.
This one might be my fave. This picture alone, in fact, has the power to let him survive. I’d better get this one blown up.
A standoff of some sort. I wonder who won?
Not sure why I constantly look like a maniac when I’m talking to Holden. Probably saying something like, “Your little brother is ROTTEN!”
Alright. After looking at these again, I suppose I’ll offer that little punk a grace period.
But he’d best use it wisely.
You guys might want to check on me in the morning or something. Make sure I’m not duct-taped to the wall.