OK, well, obviously I've been surfing the Hormone Highway from Hell for the last day or so, but things are looking up.
When I got home yesterday, our trashcan was in the road, laying on its side, where the crackheads who collect our garbage like to leave it. I say crackheads because they seem to take great delight in slinging the trashcans around when they empty them. I've seen trashcans in the middle of the road. I've seen cans flung on top of flowerbeds. They don't care.
Less than 5 minutes before I got home, the kids had walked back from the pool, and walked inside, and both ignored the can. Now, one of Michael's jobs is taking out garbage and putting the cans out, and back against the house after they're emptied. So he comes home, and he has to practically step over the can to go up to our front door.
So I sighed, hoisted my purse over my shoulder, tucked the CVS bag under my arm, and trudged over to the trashcan. I got it about halfway back to its accustomed place and Michael came out of the house in his bathing suit, his towel wrapped around his neck like a scarf.
"Hi Mom! Whatcha doin'?" he inquired.
I stopped and looked at him. "What do you think?"
He saw the dangerous gleam in my eye and grabbed the can and hustled it to its place.
He stopped on the way back in to whip his towel off and hit the tire of Mother's car with it.
Mother told me the other day she had to really fuss at Michael for not picking up a poop he saw. [The rule in the house is that when you see a tootsie roll left by Coco the Incontinent Princess, you get it up. Pronto.]
So, while I was fixing dinner last night and Mother was in the breakfast area I said to Michael, "Well, I guess we're going to have to get your eyes checked. You can't see poop or trash cans that are right in front of you. This is scary. I think there's something seriously wrong."
He stopped and looked at me with puzzlement. He's never been to an opthalmologist or even an optometrist. "What do you mean?"
"Mother, we'll have to tell them how serious it is. I am sure they will have to take out his eyeballs and put them in that machine, you know?"
Mother nodded. "Oh yes. It's very painful. We have to do it, though - he may be giong blind."
Now Michael looked suspicious, but alarmed. "I am NOT going to the doctor! There's nothing wrong with my eyes!" he declared emphatically.
"Well, I dunno. You're not able to see things. That's scary. Mother what do you think? Should we just see how it goes, or get him on in to get those eyeballs checked?"
Mother is so cool. "I don't know. If he fails to see anything else we will HAVE to get him to that eye doctor. Let's give it a day or two, I suppose..."
Michael looked vastly relieved.
I know, we are so mean...
Michael said just before he dropped off to sleep last night that he wanted to grow out his hair and style it like Ace Ventura in When Nature Calls. After I found this photo I thought maybe I should consider it, if it will get him to eat asparagus.
We own the complete Ace Ventura movie collection but the kids aren't allowed to watch it while I'm in the house.
