Today

So first of all, thank you guys so much for making me feel better.

Secondly, today was better. Not fantastic, but my brain did not turn into mush and my face did not melt off, a la yesterday's nuclear meltdown.

You know what? I changed my mind: today was pretty good. Except for the part where the Hurricane took his folding Diego chair and smashed out a pane of his door because he didn't like being in time-out in his room.

In case you are wondering, yes there is a tiny elf in my brain who does a funky dance kind of like he has to go pee when stuff like this happens. Only instead of peeing, he's giggling and saying, "Ooooh, the shit is gonna hit the fan."

He looks sort of like this, only with a green hat and shoes, and red knickers. And also, if possible, more menacing:

(It's the lightbulb that does it for me.)

I was solid, people. I am going to the ParentLink centre tomorrow to pick up some home study stuff; knowing that, a small issue like vacuuming up broken glass was water off a ducks ass. Especially because the Hurricane felt genuinely bad about it.

Later this evening we talked and he informed me that he is pretty mad at me because he wants us to spend more time together. With some further questioning, I learned that he is pulling this crap to get my attention. Well. Ok. For such a smart person, I am pretty stupid sometimes, because that makes perfect sense.

I am going to re-name this blog, "I Don't Know The Answer, Let Me Go Ask The 4 Year Old"

Catchy as all hell, isn't it?

OH AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING:

Mr. Taekwondo's rating on the Mesmerizing-O-Meter was up and down this week. Up, because his hair looked good today, and up even more because he has really nice teeth. Down, way down, because he drives a minivan. Sorry, but it's hard to be hypnotized by someone who rolls up in a Windstar. I am well aware of how superficial this is; sadly, Mr. T. may not be able to recover from this. I will try to smell him next week, maybe that will give his rating a badly needed boost.

Although I didn't get a picture of Mr. T. I did manage to not be a moron while talking to him; I toned it down to weird and spastic this week. There were a bunch of flies in the gym (I swear his rating will plummet off the charts if his hobbies include "long walks on the beach, taekwondo, and cutting up dead hookers and hiding their bodies in the civic centre") and they all seemed to be buzzing around my face, so I was swatting at the air the whole time we talked. I felt like Pigpen. It was sexy.