Superhero fuel.
Superhero physique.
We had a busy busy weekend. Joseph got his first car. A 2009 silver Honda Accord. His dad will drive it until Joseph gets his drivers' license. Yes, we broke down and bought a new car this weekend since poor poor 1997 Camry (that Drew was convinced would be Joseph's first car) was totaled the other week. I'm sure if the new car is still running in 2024, Joseph will be driving it unless I come to the rescue. I guess making him drive a car his dad's been driving since he was 9 months old will ensure that he doesn't date superficial girls. "Here son, take this hunk of junk with 400,000 miles and find you a nice girl." Hopefully he will be like his dad and be proud of all the miles on his car as if it's a quest to see how long a car will run. "Look! This car only has three wheels, the engine's held together by scotch tape, and the fuel tank is an old Mountain Dew bottle, BUT IT STILL RUNS! I'm going to work now." I can't believe I'm about to admit this - I actually took a peek at the minivans at the car lot. How convenient they are! I can lift Joseph into his car seat without bonking his head on the top of the car. And the storage space - luxurious! Maybe I can wrestle my ego into a dark corner at some future point in time so that I can recline in the back watching DVD's while Drew chauffers us around. Joseph has what appears to be a small amount of poison ivy. How did this happen, you ask? Before you make a CPS referral, I can assure you that what happened was Bandit (Oh, Bandit.) took a roll in "the poison" (as it's called in these here parts) and transferred it to Joseph's blanket that he was playing on outside. It's not bad at all - just a few small places, and it doesn't seem to bother him. In other weekend news, Joseph has outgrown his beloved Spiderman pajamas, which were replaced at Wal-mart yesterday with Batman and Buzz Lightyear - he's in 18 month sizes BTW. His Spidey ones were so cute that I kept putting him in them anyway and Drew began referring to them as his Spiderman tankini, as his ample midsection would hang out the bottom of his shirt. I would jack up the pants to cover his protruding gut, which would transform the Spiderman tankini into Spiderman capris. Never good for a superhero. While we were in the produce section of said Wal-Mart, this lady abrublty stopped and looked at Joseph, who was riding along in the cart minding his own beeswax. The following took place:
The lady: Oh, for goodness sake! Can I touch his head?
Drew: (Sideways glance at Anna for reassurance, permission, something, anything). Err...mmm...ok.
Anna: (Long, sorrowful gaze at her child as if to say, "My dear child, that cowlick thing - I will make it up to you if I die trying.") Uhmm...sure.
Joseph: (Internal monologue) "That's it, c'mon...a little closer, that's a nice lady, just a liiitle closer. Those cute little red bumps there...thaaat's it...THERE! HA! I've poisoned you!"
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