Oh I just got the call.  Ben and Amanda are returning from Zumba (not Zumba-rehab, but the actually addiction, Zumba) and I have been informed that Ben is on the edge of a meltdown.

These calls are always such a joy to receive, because as a husband I am very clear as to what they mean….”I have had enough, and when we get home he is your problem to deal with.”  This is such a contrast to what I heard when they left, as I had made homemade chicken soup and was hopeful for the joyous return to eat it.  My instructions, although they were not passed on as such, but I am a smart man, are to make sure I am prepared to get him in the tub, his pajamas, (<—an Oxford comma….yes, I use them) and in bed.  What she had said was that they were on their way, he was on the edge of a meltdown and he needs a bath.  He is always MY SON at those times….after all, this is not my first rodeo.

On the plus side, my writer’s block for this evening’s blog has been cured.  But that is no comfort as I look at what lies ahead.  A stinky little boy with a bad attitude in a bath tub is like herding cats…..IN THE RAIN.  Sure, you can think you are doing well, but it is a delusion…..you are a moron.  But that is the life of a dad sometimes.  I will figure a way around all this I am sure.

So it is off to run his bath and prepare for battle.  Good thing I have finished this though.  Lord knows what I would have written after being soaked and wrestling a kid who has no desire for a bath and the will of a lion.  I’d imagine it would have been a pretty angry post!

Mr. Bubble take me away!  (sorry Calgon)

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+