No updates for a while, Kelli has been sick. She has that nasty flu virus that has been busy overpopulating our local hospitals. She has managed to stay out of the hospital, but has been in a bad way for over a week. Since I don't get sick (really I don't) I wasn't interested in the medicine that the doctor's office prescribed for me to take in a prophylactic manner but we thought that Sam has been through enough the past few weeks so we went ahead and filled the prescription that they wrote for him to take to avoid catching this junk. Needless to say, he is not impressed with his "don't make me sick medicine". He has tried just about every avoidance tactic known to man to avoid this disgusting liquid (and I don't blame him, it's just plain gross); from refusing to open his mouth, karate-chopping the med dispensing syringe away, having me water it down, to using it as a bargaining chip, "How about some cookies after I take it, to help get rid of the nasty taste, Dad?" Tonight, he reached a new level of deviance....While getting his medicine ready, the crafty little three year old informed me that he didn't get his vitamin this morning. I doubled checked with Kelli and his story checked out. So I told him I would get his vitamin and while he was chewing on the gummi goodness that is Flinstones candy-er...vitamins I would get his medicine ready. He took the vitamin from me after a brief game of "which hand is it in?" and I turned around to draw his nightly dose of gross. As I'm getting into the cabinet I hear the sound of little feet covered in race car jammies running away. The sound fades out of the kitchen and then I hear it. The sound that I didn't expect to hear until he was twelve and hating me for grounding him or something: SLAM!!! He had gotten his vitamin and run away to hide in his room. I knocked on his door, only to be greeted by a squeaky little voice that informed me that no one was home. After picking myself up off of the floor from laughing I knocked again. "Go away... there's nobody here!" I can't believe it, I've been outsmarted by my own son. Mind you, I always knew that this day was coming, but I figured I had at least until he was 5 or 6 before this would happen. I knock again; again I hear the same squeaky sing-song voice inform me that no one is home. So I ask, "If no one's home, who am I talking to?" Silence. Ha, I've still got some time left before he's officially smarter than me.
Then he says, "It's whom, Dad! It's whom!"
Okay, that last part didn't happen, but he was smoking when I burst open the door. Okay, he doesn't smoke, but he did get a cookie out of the deal.
