Prescript: the editting functions on this app have not been functioning correctly. Please escuse any weird typos as I just give up at some point and go to bed. Thanks...smile.
What a trooper. I would love to be in my little guy's head when his mother, who has been gone for five days, calls to explain that he will have to skip breakfast in the morning. As I sulk in the Kansas City International Airport with my folks waiting for a flight delayed by two hours, Dad takes Son and Daughter out for a good meal. See, he will be tested in the morning for his reactions to sugars.
In the dawn of the day, after arriving home at nearly midnight, I am woken by my Dot. I smile to see her fuzzy head next to mine on my queen sized pillow. She has pulled in tightly and swung her foot over my knee. She is asleep. She peeps. Son sleeps. "Let's get up and est nefore your brother gets up."
Mission accomplished. Brother drops down on the couch crying. He's hungry. He wants to eat. sister comforts. sister turns on Phebus and Ferb. Brother laughs at something. Mom gets ready for the day, sweeps the floor that may not have been swept in five days, and shuffles mail. Time to go. daughter crying now. She doesn't want to go. She agrees to conscessions and motivates Hungry Boy to the car.
An hour drive goes by quickly with networked video game players. We check into the Children's Hospital. No, it isn't a big deal. We are just testing Son's reaction to surpgsrs with a breath test in hopes of solving the mystery of his tummy discomforts. This is a three hour long test on and empty stomach. He breaths in a tube every fifteen minutes. The first one on empty and followed by a cup of uber sugary lemonaide stuff. He drinks it like a pro. The nurse is clearly impressed. Then three hours of waiting with only interruption every fifteen minutes.
What troopers. Well, the hospital makes it pretty easy with On Deman movies, Star Wars Ntendo games, play area, and an art walk. Me, well, I have five days of e-mails to catch up on thanks to free Wifi. Three hours. No immediate reactions. Results in two days. Blah blah blah. Boy looks faint. Head out with a bag of chips and a juice. Bass Pro Shop for late lunch as a reward! Yeah! Good job Kids.
Traffic. I miss the first turn off and slam, not litterally, into a nice jam. The off ramp that I was going to take to turn around is blocked off. All three lanes are blocked off. We shuffle one, two, three, one two, three, one , two three into the center shoulder. Fire engines, police, people in reflective vests with measuring tape, and one misplaced, black leathr lace up men's dress shoe. I feel sick. Someone is still here. They don't know what to do. Should they go home? I try not to cry. I have to drive. Slowly, we move forward and are released to our personal business.
Kids are clearly upset. The Kid hasn't eaten in eighteen hours. Sister snuck out for a quick sandwhich, by the way. We finally pull over north of Denver at the Orchards Mall. There aren't too many resturants to choose from. rock Bottom Brewery will do. They have fish and chips anyway and that is what Son wanted at Bass Pro Shop Diner. So all are happy again.
Summer pulls to a close in two days. A lot of growing occurred in 82 days. I look across the table at my offspring and admire. Son gives Sister a few fries. Sister gives Her brother the rest of her fruit. It doesn't matter these are fruits she clearly explains that she doesn't like. These kids are survivor kids. They are resilent. They are symbionic. The fight like lions, wrestle like wolves, and groom each other like chimps. My job here is done. NAYGH. Love you to the moon and back twenty times over. XOXO
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