I have this sweet memory of when I was young:
I was very sick and home from school for the day—maybe even the week. My mom let me have the privilege of laying on her bed and watching what I remember to be as the black-and-white t.v. in their bedroom. She cut up a bunch of fruit and put it into a bowl and brought it up to me. When my dad came home from work he had brought me a bag of Pop-It Beads. I felt especially loved and cared for that day—so much, that I still remember it 25 or so years later.
Johnny got a black eye yesterday. I’m still not exactly sure how. Something about dropping a bat while lying down on the floor. Must have been a pretty hard drop because we only have nerf style bats at the house. Anyhow, it looks awful. While it didn't seem to bother him a ton yesterday, he was hurting today. My response to this was to let him lay in my bed, play on the ipad and drink a smoothie. Hoping he feels better soon.
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