Today, I was vacuuming and my son thought it'd be funny to scare me. So, he entered the room unnoticed and spit out a high pitch scream. I screamed at the top of my lungs(to his joy)and while I narrowly avoided yelling expletives I screamed some not-so-creative alternatives.."GOSH...DARN....IT". I wasn't happy. I hate when he does this, and I've told him so. It took a moment for my heart's beat to slow, and I said sternly... "Don't Do That! Do You Want your Mother to Have a Heart Attack?!!".
"That's not how heart attacks happen", he retorted, "We learned in science that heart attacks happen when cells die and blood can't get to the heart".
"It's official", I said with a growing grin,"I'm not smarter than a fifth grader".
On the better days...which really are most days...I count the many blessings of spending each of my days with my son. He's great. He's funny. He rolls with the punches of life. And helps me keep perspective.
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Speaking as someone who has been scared to death by Gabe; it really does feel like you could have a heart attack. I love how smart and quick he is with his responses. His facial expressions and tone only add emphasis and make him even more hilarious. He really is one great kid.
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