The Day After The Day Before

My innocent little boy

I should have posted this yesterday but I spent most of it in bed with a sick headache.  Apologies, youngest fruit of my loins.

Yesterday was GCSE results day in the UK: thousands of terrified teenagers arrived early at school without having to be screamed at by their doting parents, to see if all of their hard work was worth it.

In this house, it was.  Spud got excellent results and we love him after all.

To celebrate, he stayed up all night with some of his friends.

No, I don’t get it, either, but I’m not sixteen.

He said that around four a.m. they realised it was a stupid idea but they were committed so they saw it through.  

What character.  Or stupidity.

He had breakfast at six, was home by eight, showered by nine, fast asleep on the couch by nine-fifteen.

Well done, my darling boy.

I have seen the future, and it snores.

My innocent little boy

Joke 519

Wheelchairs (Photo credit: Joe Shlabotnik)

A joke from my friend Cliff.

I was in the reception area of a doctor’s office, when a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room.  As she went to the receptionist’s desk, the man sat there, alone and silent.  Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother’s lap and walked over to the wheelchair.  Placing his hand on the man’s, he said, “I know how you feel.  My Mom makes me ride in the stroller too.”