Me, to my therapist: Sometimes I feel disconnected from Joe, after working all day. And sometimes he prefers Morrison because basically, Morrison is more fun. I mean, I prefer Morrison to myself.
Therapist, to me: You need to get on Joe’s level and just PLAY with him.
Me, to Joe: WANNA PLAY?
Joe, to Me: YES
I proceed to play with Joe, tossing him wildly into the air and lightly slamming him onto the couch.
My Back, to me: %*%*$&&$$&###
Me, to my Back: $*$&$&#&#&@&@)#)#)#
My Back, to my Doctor: HELP
My Doctor, to my Back: WHAT DID SHE DO
Me, to my Doctor: I lifted my 30 pound son while kneeling and then sat hunched over a computer for 3 days and now I can’t feel my feet.
My Doctor, to Me: Don’t lift your son.
Me, to Joe: Hi, me again. I can’t pick you up.
Joe, to me: %*^&%&$&$&$&$$$
Me: I know. I KNOW.
I lie on the ground, stretching on a heating pad, feeling further from him than I did before. Joe comes over. Sticks a finger in my mouth.
Joe, to my Mouth: MOUTH.
I realize that he’s my kid, and I’m his Mom, regardless of whether I can pick him up, even if I can’t play him.
Me, to Joe: Yes, Mouth.
I hold him as best I can and hope he does not have my Back and its issues, tho I will always have his.