So with the girls gone, we thought we would do some more boy centric activities in their absence. He wanted to play xbox. He played xbox, but with his dad because that thing makes me crazy queasy and I don't want my boy having childhood memories of vomit soaked Lego Indiana Jones. Those aren't good for anybody. He got to change seats at the kitchen table and watch superheroes while he ate his sandwich. The kid dreams big. We didn't want an afternoon of video games, but were not relishing the thought of sticky playgrounds. So we drove around and did some Sunday driving and looking at things. During that time, the hub and I decided that he would take the boy to a Smokies baseball game. I, sadly enough, would have to say behind. I actually love baseball games, but had been given clear instructions by the powers that be that I needed to be at the Church Council meeting this evening. I did not want to find out the result of defying this order, so I stayed home. So the boys left to watch the game. I sat through a meeting. Afterwards, I got a sandwich and went home. I ate the sandwich and then kind of sat and stared at the wall. There are lots of things to do, but what do I do. I sent a few tweets out. Texted with S and spoke with G. The quiet was unsettling. I know most people relish in it and I am sure I will someday. But my body couldn't really relax until I heard the door slam and two little boy feet running down the hall. Since his arrival home he has flipped his body somehow, soaked the bathroom post shower and has hit his head on the footstool while hanging up a towel. That takes talent. That's my boy and I'll take his ruckus over silence any time.
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