mental

I slept terribly last night.
I was dreaming that I was renting a room from a drug addict.
I was woken by Middle upon his return from the movies (that's the rule).
And then I couldn't go back to sleep.
How will Middle fare today?
Did my parent's home in Oklahoma have a foyer with a table?
When is that party that Youngest is attending?

I drove myself crazy.

Last night, when I drove Middle to the movies he said:
I'm not feeling good about this...I've never had stitches or an IV or anesthesia.
Do you have to sign something that says you understand that I could die during the procedure?
Is that true?
They make you sign a bunch of stuff, right?

To which I replied:
I'm pretty sure they make you sign something that says the risks of general anesthesia have been explained to you and that you promise you'll pay for the treatment and that the oral surgeon has permission to speak with your primary dentist.

Well, I'm not looking forward to it, were his final words on the subject. He bounded out of the car smiling and was laughing when he woke me last night (by turning on the bedroom light and staring at me).

He's hard to parent in situations like this.
I'll want to be holding his hand or hovering over him and he won't have it.
I put fresh linens on his bed, recycled the 38 bottles and cans from his room and vacuumed.

His brother picked out a new video game for him.

I told his girlfriend I'll pick her up and bring her here to see him.

I'll stock the fridge with jello and the freezer with sorbet.

And I'll probably hold his hand. Even if he doesn't like it.