He’s five, but he thinks he’s eleven. He’s sick of school. Well, sick of riding the bus, he says. He still sucks his thumb and needs his blanket at bedtime. He’s the best at cuddles. This morning, he got in bed with me after Matt left for work. We watched Funniest Home Videos. We laughed for an hour, while his brother was still in bed. (In all honesty, Funniest Videos is one of my favorite things to watch.) He’s obsessed with A-B patterns, something they learned in school. He laughs at his own knock knock jokes. He has incredibly dry skin. He hates getting his hair cut. His favorite food is chicken. He asks if we can go to Buffalo Wild Wings after church every Sunday. He can spell his name, dog, cat, and goat, but doesn’t recognize the letter Z (that one I don’t get). —this is where the post goes downhill, fast.— He has thrown up over the smell of his own poop. And just this week he asked me if I had a pee sack. What? So I asked him where his was. I found out only boys have them, I’ll let you use your imagination. Yeah, I’m sick of him riding the bus too.