It's the day after Christmas. All the presents have been opened, played with, and tossed aside. The husband was supposed to be home, but had to go to work for the morning. I was supposed to be cheerful, but so far it's not happening. Two grumpy kids will do that to a body.
I did get a kick out of Evan this morning when he wandered in from our bedroom after watching 3 hours of cartoons. Yes, I am that good of a mother. Suddenly he announces in the saddest little voice ever, "Who is going to play ball with me? No one wants to play with me."
This statement cracked me up because he was acting as though there were dozens of people lurking inside our house who had all turned down his gracious offer of football tossing. I don't even know if I responded to him.
Dad finally got home and Evan rushed to get dressed (at 12:17 no less) to go outside to play. Two football passes later, and the child was crying. I poked my head out the door and asked Eric just how badly he didn't want to play the game. Evan hurt his finger trying to catch the ball. Oh well. Toughen up kid. Dad is the only one around here who took you up on your offer to play ball.
Poor poor child. Haha, what a funny guy. I have to admit I have this urge to pack all the Christmas up. I don't know why but I feel this need to get things in order. Its better today after cleaning and organizing and Doc wants it up for his Mom's visit. To kinda show off our house at the holidays since she's NEVER visited us. I figured we could leave it but for some reason whats wonderful up to the 25 isn't the same on the 26th. Poo.
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