Here’s the deal.
My knees effing ache tonight. I mean, seriously hurt to the point of not being able to lift The Kid out from the bathtub after his bath/imaginary scuba diving expedition. I could attribute this condition to a number of things: it’s been cold, I started to walk again at work (and need time to adjust), or I’m just getting old. Hell, I only have 38 days of my 30s left so the specter of turning 40 is definitely looming in the distance.
With all of that out of the way, I’m taking it easy tonight and not exercising, either. I’ve taken some Motrin, I’m sitting on the couch with my legs elevated, both knees are wrapped in neoprene bandages and I’m covered in a blanket.
So what the hell does all that mean? Duh! I’m going to hit you with a salvo of posts! And here’s the first one.
For Daddy Night at The Kid’s school about a month ago, he drew a picture of me. Along with the picture was a little survey of things he supposedly knows about me, like the fact that I weight 30 lbs., have blue eyes and I love to clean the garage. (Not even close, kid!)
At any rate, here’s his rendering of his Dear Old Dad:
Pretty cute and not too shabby for a four-year-old, eh? I thought so, too. But then I started to look a little closer and realized I had seen this guy before:
In the words of Master Shake, “Holy crap in a pita!” My son apparently thinks I look like Meatwad from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted!
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