A Stroke of Genius

Starting last Thursday, I was knocked flat, and I mean F-L-A-T with a migraine that was so wicked, I had Bryon take me to the hospital. I almost never do that because it's a major commitment. One, you know the doctors are going to triage you at the bottom because, let's face it, you are not dying, just in pain. Or, they might, on an off-chance think you are dying of an aneurysm or stroke, or something and triage you to the top, but refuse to treat your pain until they do an MRI or something. All very logical, but sucky when you are shaking. Either way, you are waiting forever until you get treatment. Two, chances are, you won't get treated until they are convinced by either your demeanor your your medical record that you are, in fact, not there because you are really just a drug addict, after a quick fix because what they will treat you with is the "good stuff." Alas, it was really, really bad; so bad that I went to the E.R. as late as 10 pm after class and was there all night. I didn't get out of bed again until Monday. Needless to say, I missed Collin. A lot.

How do you make up for missed time with your little guy? Well, you do stuff that he adores every second you have with him.

Case in point, the minute he got home from school on Monday, we had painting time. We painted for probably two hours while we waited for maintenance to show up. We don't have any smocks so I told him to take off his clothes and he insisted on wearing an apron because that's what he wears at school.

Homer, ever the curious cat, insisted on getting involved. I'm surprised he didn't end up panted.
I just love how happy he looks when he's doing something like this. Last year, I would've said an afternoon like this would've given me gray hair. This year, after Montessori, I could have left the room for an hour. He followed all the directions I gave him about rinsing the brush between colors, not using too much paint, making sure the brush was totally clean, everything. He closed all the caps. That school is worth every stinking penny. He knew it was fun but how to stay on task because it was an "activity." I was in awe of his focus.
There was absolutely zero mess. It took me less than ten minutes to clean up. He probably didn't even need an apron. There was barely even any paint on his hands. I was totally shocked. I had more paint on my hands because one of the containers had an air bubble and it popped in my hands when I opened it. I was just so proud of my little guy.
Such a good boy. And has anyone noticed how handsome he is? Just wondering. He's pretty darn special, isn't he?