At first I thought it was just me, or maybe the little man and myself. But I have shocking new evidence…of the overall decline of conversational skills in our household. I was talking with the husband, regaling him with tales of our adventures yesterday (that occurred while he was still asleep). As soon as I paused he commented. But not about my story. He simply stated “I stabbed myself with a fork”, then went back to staring out the window. Well allrighty then. To be fair we all seem to be getting sick. I’ve been trying to ignore this terrible turn of events, in hopes we’ll automagically improve, but I don’t think that plan’s going to work out. I was forced to face up to it earlier when the little man was obviously off his game. He was in another room when I noticed the house had become eerily quiet. That usually spells trouble. I leapt up thinking I was going to bust him, No David!-style. Instead I found the poor boy sitting very quietly, in his miniature la-z-boy. When he’s that lethargic it’s a different kind of trouble. So rather than tempting fate we’ve opted to spend this holiday at home. Even though it meant skipping the MLK Day March (I used to attend every year), and skipping dinner with the lovely ladies. Besides, though the temperature has increased a bit, it’s still only 7°…and I’m getting wussy in my old age.
