Twelve years ago this morning I woke up, tried to roll over, and burst into tears. I had gained 45 pounds and could not fathom how I'd make it through another day of pregnancy. Fortunately, by 11:20 p.m. that night I had one of these:
(It actually took two months for him to look like this.
When he first came out he looked a lot angrier.)
This morning Jackson woke up and asked for Cheetos and a Mexican Coke for breakfast, and reader, I sang Happy Birthday To You and gave it to him. It was a lot easier than to try to start lactating again.
Today he looks more like this:
I did not draw this, a tired caricature artist at Legoland did it for $15.
Jack, watching Jackson getting dressed for day camp in a black t-shirt: "A black t-shirt? Seriously? It's going to be 90 degrees out there today."
Jackson: "I like this t-shirt."
Jack: "Good, then you're going to die wearing it."
Jackson: *puts on long pants, knee-high socks, and high-top Converse*
Jack: "You can't be serious."
Jackson: *puts on wool beanie*
Jack (to me): "Are you going to weigh in on this?"
Me: "I think he looks cute."
Jackson: "Thanks, Mom."
Me: "You're welcome."
Jack (taking off white t-shirt, going to closet): "Fine."
Me: "Peewee, you need to take off your coat, it's going to be 90 degrees out there today."
Peewee: *wags because he heard his name*
Jack (comes back from closet wearing black t-shirt): "Then I, too, shall wear a black t-shirt."
Me: "You look cute, too."
Jack: "I've waited all week to hear you to say that."
Me: "Does this mean we're going to have sex today?"
Jackson: "IS THAT WHAT YOU GUYS DO WHEN I'M AT CAMP?!"
