Blast Off

Wm pretending a chair is a rocket ship

He did not like me taking a picture of him while playing

Wm has been asking for a dog for a couple weeks - like, seriously wanting one.  We've been wavering on the issue.  But he's also been asking for guitar lessons.  Neither option is cheap.  So we told Wm he can pick one of the two and we'll get it for him. He thought about it for a minute and goes, "I want the guitar lessons - I don't want to have a sick Mommy!"  What a sweetie.  I told him there are certain kinds of dogs we can get that shouldn't bother my allergies too much and he said he'd rather not chance having a sick Mommy and will stick with the guitar (and guitars don't poop).  He will not regret this choice if he keeps up with the guitar.  When he's a teenager, that thing will be a chick magnet.

Steve is doing well.  Hasn't even taken any Advil today!  Meanwhile, I pulled a muscle in my back doing a boot camp workout and now we're a pair of sad people.  I have learned my lesson though - those boot camp things are evil.  I don't like someone screaming meanly at me to feel the burn and get my knees higher...HIGHER.  So I have taken way more Advil today than Steve has. (In fact, as I write this, the weirdo has decided to disassemble our ceiling fan, tinker with the wiring, and then, hopefully, has plans to reassemble it.  Steve is not a good patient.)