Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Hypochondria
I swear I'm raising a hypochondriac. Last week and into the weekend, for about 4 days Nick swore he broke his wrist. I kept telling that if he had broke his wrist he wouldn't be able to do those hand stands, but instead he just proved me wrong by yelling "Owe" while doing hand stands.
Tonight, he broke his foot; at least that's what I'm told. He rolled off the couch, got stepped on by Aiden, and now his foot his broke. Oh look, there he goes running circles through the kitchen.
At least he hasn't figured out how to play sick to miss school. We have no fake throw-up, no thermometer under the heating pad, no Tabasco sauce under the nostrils creating a runny nose. Nope, he just thinks that everyone part of his body is broken.
Tonight, he broke his foot; at least that's what I'm told. He rolled off the couch, got stepped on by Aiden, and now his foot his broke. Oh look, there he goes running circles through the kitchen.
At least he hasn't figured out how to play sick to miss school. We have no fake throw-up, no thermometer under the heating pad, no Tabasco sauce under the nostrils creating a runny nose. Nope, he just thinks that everyone part of his body is broken.
