The boy was glad to be home till I said some fateful words to him. Son, Superman isn’t home and the lawn needs mowed.
After that, not so much.
Bless his heart, he mowed. Then for the rest of the day, he rested, and ate, and rested and ate, and fell into bed at 7:30pm.
He brought his sister a bracelet, I received a cell phone holder, and he also brought home some coffee~~Panamanian coffee~~the stuff that they sell to Starbucks. I am not quite sure if it is for him, or for Superman, but my motherly instinct says it isn’t for Superman.
But let me just show you the prize he got for himself.
Yep…yep…yep! Told ya. Very male.
He couldn’t wait to show me this, tell me all the virtues of this knife with brass knuckles and “knock out knob” on the end.
I asked him when or where would he use it, seeing as how we aren’t violent people.
He had no answer.
Please don’t come to Pothole, Ohio with malicious intent, you will most certainly meet with some resistance in the form of a a blue handled, much polished lethal weapon.
Yes, it is very good to have him home.