Boo has a scratchy voice. Which frustrates him no end because he has a penchant for replicating any high pitch sound he hears perfectly, and with a scratchy voice he just can’t quite get it right. Which, hmmmm, frustrates is not the word… perhaps drives him fucking batshit crazy…
So off to the doctors today. He was a perfect angel. Cuddling me in the waiting room and humming softly, I almost didn’t notice the horrified stares of the other patients as a child who is as tall and probably outweighs me, hung his body limply all over my lap stroking my hair in time to the song he was humming. As a treat after being so good for the doctor (another round of explosive finger paint inducing antibiotics) we went to the local shopping centre.
Where he turned into a gnashing thrashing banshee, arms flapping wildly and screaming at the top of his laryngitisy voice.
I managed to convince him to leave after about 30 minutes of negotiation, flopped in the car and read him the riot act. Complete with all revisions and addendum’s. Bastard was still screaming and thrashing as I made my way out of the parking lot.
I suppose I should mention here that my mother, MOTY, was with us and not helping at all with her helpful suggestions of just giving in to every single one of his demands even though I had CLEARLY given him 2 choices, behave or go home.
As I approached a red light I noticed the sign on the back of a truck
Like it was a message to me. Like someone had positioned that truck in my vision to tell me to calm the fuck down and just cope.
As I drove past that truck I contemplated the message that must have been sent to me from the heavens, and I caught the drivers eye…
And flipped the fucker the bird.
Speaking of fuckers, the abusive little leprechaun who haunts my comments has some news. SQUEEEEEEE! I mean, yeah… whatevz…