There is no way of denying it: Julian’s shipment of 100% of the purest and most unadulterated testosterone has come in. As of ten days ago everything has turned into turbo power mode. His sneakers are power-shoes, his pants have rocket implants in them, and any noise level below 10,0000 decibel is greeted with mocking disregard. He is fighting invisible three-headed dragons behind living room doors and has nothing but scorn for objects (and people) who resist his dominance. He hasn’t conquered gravity yet, which causes him sufficient grief, but at the rate he is going, I am sure, it will only be a matter of time before he is airborne.
2 comments:
I honestly don't think I would survive having a boy.
Simple a matter of mind over matter. He shall fly.
Post a Comment