|This is what I get for saying ‘Don’t look like a serial killer!’|
No longer does he want to be referred to as ‘Co-Defendant #1’. He’s been working out (with a 5lb neon pink handweight…sigh) and bulking up for the babes he’s sure will be knocking down our door at any moment. He is…Captain Studly!
He still has somewhat of an aversion to soap and water and generally feels that dousing himself in Axe body spray counts as personal hygiene. Somewhere out there is a clueless girl who will marry him (hey, I’m not gonna warn her!)…and hopefully make him bathe.
His room is still a cesspool, but I content myself with the fact that his bedroom does have a door and I have enough sense (and sense of self-preservation) to close it.
It’s not possible for him to be thirteen. Then again, he told his sister it was entirely possible because I give them the best gift of all each year.
I let them live.
Happy birthday, Captain Studly, from your mother, Wonder Woman!