I've had a headache the last two days, exacerbated by the regular fire-alarm-like screams of my one-and-only son. I've found myself, twice now, rousing frantically from a nap and grabbing up armfuls of photo albums, laptops, and Bibles (and our yellow duster once, which I mistook for the cat) only to later realize that my son had run screaming through the room.
It gets old, my friends, getting old. Screaming two year olds - accelerating the heart, pumping the adrenaline, graying the hair - certainly do not help the situation.
. . . . .
Have I mentioned that my dad now, along with my mom, has diabetes? They each have a different type, covering the bases, making sure that no one can have something that they do not. Selfish people, there. He seems to be happy even in the midst of the changes it has required of him. Mom has always been the same way since her diagnosis. They make it sound so attractive that I'm thinking of becoming a diabetic myself.
I'm just not sure. I'll have to do some more research, get a few more opinions, eat several more cupcakes.