I've already blogged about my mom's chocolate chip cookies, but we have now reached a crisis: We are out of them. Tonight, I told Ethan that we were out of Grandma's cookies but could eat Heather's. He said, "Disgusting!" Later, I sneaked him one of his mothers along with an ice cold milk. He ate part of it, and then said, "Daddy. Why don't you finish it. It just isn't very good."
On another Ethan note, over the weekend, he spent a couple days with his cousin who took him to a Vallivue High football game followed the next day with breakfast with the Vallivue Cross Country team. When I asked him if he was having fun (while we were in Vegas), over the phone in a plaintive little voice he replied, "Not very well. Last night I barfed like a chicken." He didn't "barf," but he is a bit under the weather.
He told me tonight that he just didn't feel well enough to help with the dishes. "My legs are just too tired Daddy."
Maybe one of Grandma's cookies would help....