Go figure. The day we’re going to see Ryan’s new preschool and meet the director, he refuses to have his hair combed, wears his shirt backwards, selects jeans that are too short, and continues to wear the dirty black socks from yesterday.

We go shopping to buy him new tennis shoes. And he wants to get the EXACT SAME PAIR he already has, in a size bigger. I was hyping these, but no dice. {{Every now and then I have a passing moment of realization of what I’ll be missing out on by not having a daughter. Not getting to buy super cute shoes is one of those moments. Boys’ athletic shoes (the ‘sensible’, supportive kind) are super ugly, especially once the kid is out of the cute toddler stage.) (Wait though! Ryan did pick out a pink balloon at the shoe department. He also lets me polish his big toe!) Later in the afternoon, because he refuses to cease a fun activity to do something practical like empty his bladder, he pees all over the new shoes while whizzing on a decorative shrub in the backyard.

We go out to lunch!! At a restaurant!! For PIZZA!! With Grandma!!! What is there not to love about this scenario? Ryan loves restaurants. He loves pizza. Grandma is with us. One would assume he’d be able to maintain a pleasant, peaceful, happy demeanor in this situation. But then again, mom is sitting across from him instead of next to him. He didn’t get a straw. He spent part of his morning visiting a place that’s going to keep him away from his precious home and his precious mama three mornings a week come fall. This was on his mind. And then his pizza started to fall, and he wasn’t allowed to pick it up off the floor and eat it. And then suddenly tears are falling, shrieks are being emitted, forks are banging on chairs and plates, screams are erupting, and an entire restaurant of people is looking at us. M…E…L…T…D…O…W…N.

Fake nap passes without incident. We eat apples on the porch. I glance around and wonder how we’re going to fill the rest of the day. On a whim, I ask Ryan if he’d like to go outside so mommy can take some pictures of him. He says “okay!!”. I ask him if he’s willing to change shirts, to put on a ‘fancy shirt’ for his pictures. He says “okay!!” I think, holy crap, is this really happening?? Sure enough, he puts on a ‘fancy shirt’ over his baseball tee. He lets me comb his hair WITH WATER. He slips on his galoshes and gallops out to the front yard, where we trespass on the neighbor’s property to take some pictures. He looks at the camera when I ask him to. He goofs off with sticks and peeks at me behind trees and acts silly while I photograph him and a fire hydrant. I capture these miracle shots:

(okay, this next one here = not so great since it appears he’s missing a left arm and a right hand. But I like the expression on his face!)

And then tonight he takes a piss under his bed.

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