Mr. M

One night last week, I was putting the Short People to bed and M starts confessing that his sister, the little girl across the street and himself rode their bikes outside the neighborhood...needless to say, his sister was not happy with him. Now one would think the next day Mr. M would be on the defense from the wrath of H...but, no....he was on the offense. She wasn't up five minutes before he was on top of her tackling. When I pulled him off, he told me he did it because he hadn't had his morning tickle (from me) Oh, so it is my fault he is wrestling his sister in the early morning hours??? Geesh, I hadn't even had a cup of tea yet.

Last night, right before drifting off to sleep, he announced he wasn't sticking his finger up any alligator's butt. Huh??? He informed me that is how you tell the sex of the alligator and he wasn't going to do it.

A few nights ago, he jumped on the couch (against house rules) and hurt his knee...he build himself a cane out of markers and I had to lift the cripple into bed. I received the sweetest "Thank you, Mama, for lifting me up." It was worth indulging his cripple status for that small remark.

Then there is the story, I really wanted to blog about so I wouldn't forget because it cracked me up...and I have already forgotten it. I just told it to his big sister, Roo, two nights ago and it is gone. These kids just chew up my brain cells and spit them out like watermelon seeds.

I will add a picture of his cane tomorrow.