First an update: Maren is fine. Timothy is doing great. The seizures have slowed down a bit, medication has been adjusted, and the ever elusive appointment with the neurologist has been set. (Seriously, those neurologists are like leprechauns. Hard to catch.)
So I got the funniest phone call the other day…. heh heh… seriously I start smiling and chuckling to myself just thinking about it. Here’s how it went:
Miss 8: Hi Mom. It’s me. I just want you to know that Miss 7 put the wrong brown lunch bag in my backpack.
Me: What happened?
Miss 8: I had to eat hot lunch.
Me: What was in your backpack?
Miss 8: TWO MUSHROOMS MOM!
Me: What?
Miss 8: Miss 7 put the wrong bag from the fridge. It only had two big mushrooms in it. I had to talk to her about that Mom.
Me: Did you yell at her? (wondering if this is an I’m in trouble at school for fighting phone call.)
Miss 8: No Mom. I told her I needed to have a private talk with her.
Me: What did she say?
Miss 8: She already knew Mom. She thought she had put Dad’s lunch in my bag but I told her No, it was much, much, much worse than that!
Me: How did she know?
Miss 8: Everybody knows Mom. When I opened up my bag and saw those mushrooms I was like, OH NO! Everyone was asking what was in my bag.
Me: (laughing because I can picture Miss 8’s reaction to the portobello mushrooms in her bag and I know just how overly dramatic she can be) Well, you have to admit it’s pretty funny.
Miss 8: Yeah, Mom. Well, the reason I’m calling is I have to know what’s going to happen.
Me: It already happened.
Miss 8: No Mom, I mean I have to know what’s going to happen to those mushrooms if they sit in my backpack all day without being in the refrigerator.
Me: They’ll be fine.
Miss 8: Okay Mom. I just had to know. Bye Mom.
Me: Bye.
Heh, Heh, Heh. I just can’t stop thinking about Ramona.
You know, Ramona Quimby Age 8.
And the day her mom sent her the hard boiled egg that wasn’t hard boiled and she cracked it on her head.
Heh Heh Heh.
Ha ha ha still laughing!
: )