Jan 10 2009
Da Boy is on Da ‘Roids
So this morning Da Boy came into my office super hyper. He was bopping up and down, still in his soccer uniform (7am game—yeah, I said it, 7 am game) talking a hundred miles a minute.
“You know the coach this morning mom well he said that there were these two guys from the other team in front of the goal. And there were two guys from the other team in front of the goal. And I was standing like right where I was supposed to me. So I was standing right where I was supposed to be and there were these two guys from the other team in front of the goal. Oh wait. It was our goal they were standing in front of, and I was right where I was supposed to be. And a ball came. And I was right where I was supposed to be and passed it to a guy. Oh wait. I passed it to our guy and you know what, you know what, you know what? Oh wait. I was the only one there, and I passed it, and the coach said if I hadn’t the other team would have scored and we would have lost instead of tied. Isn’t that awesome? Do we have anything to eat?”
Me, “Yeah. Downstairs.”
So he be-bopped out of the room and then came running back.
“Oh yeah. I took my steroids already and my breathing treatment this morning, but I’m wheezing a little. Can I take another treatment because I’m wheezing, but I’ve already taken my steroids this morning? Mom. Mom. Mom. Can I?”
So Da Boy is on the ‘roids.
Can you tell?
He was wheezing yesterday and the doctor put him on the ‘roids.
When he was told by the doctor that he was going on steroids he said, “I can’t take those. Those are illegal! Am I going to get in trouble?”
But illegal or not, she put him on them.
And me?
Well I’d like to kiss her, the doctor, right on the lips.
SMOOCH!
And then I’d give her Da Boy for the next few days.
Oh well. He is breathing better, as if you couldn’t tell by his talking.
