Baller

Dr. Evil was actually not evil at all. They were very nice and there was a section about dental anxiety on the form, so they got a little essay about the Novocaine Nazi, my high tolerance to numbing agents and my sensitivity to people getting all pissy and treating me like a crackhead about it. They understood.

Unfortunately, my cleaning isn't until next week. So the dental hygienist could be evil, but I'm not quite as scared as I was before. I'm still worried about it though and reserve the right to freak out closer to then. I did get the soda lecture but I needed the soda lecture--Coke is the only thing keeping me from wedding weight. But I really, really like Coke.

Today little kid starts T-ball! I'm excited for him. Remember when Big Kid did t-ball? Or more accurately, when I woke up every Saturday morning so Big Kid could wander around the field and tell his coach that he was too hungry or tired to run bases and would consider it next week? And then never hit a ball or willingly ran a base? And then on trophy day we decided he didn't deserve a trophy and slept in?

I'm thinking it will go better than that this time.

The other day as Big Kid was getting ready for school, he looked over at little kid and said, "Mom, he's gettin' bigger ebery day and he doesn't eben know it."

"Yep, you are too," I answered before looking at him and seeing that his eyes were full of tears. "Are you about to cry?"

He angrily wiped his eyes and said, "NO! I just love him bein' a baby."

I feel a little like that this morning. How did my baby get big enough for team sports?

The thought of being only 15 years away from Major League Baseball-type money helps though. little kid has promised to buy me a big house (with stairs), a boat, and a car for every birthday!