Sunday was his Alexander day. He couldn't get his belt bucket to work. As I was brushing my hair in the bathroom, he was yelling, "STOP, GET OUT OF THERE, STOP IT!" Thinking it was Rachel he was yelling at, I looked and found she was right by me. So I asked, "Michael, what are you yelling at?"
"My jeans are doing bad things to my penis!" Hmm, no comment on that one.
Then he went to the van before Rachel and I were ready to leave. When we finally reach the van, he was inside crying. I expected the reason to be that we took too long. Nope, he was upset because he wanted to "scoot over" in his seat, but couldn't because the seatbelt was hurting his hip.
He fell asleep on the way to church.
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