Not deathly ill. Just don’t feel good. Sore throat and such. I’m tempted to make some inappropriate comment about what it might be, but it’s probably not and it probably wouldn’t even be funny. So never mind.
My grandson is racing his toy monster trucks repeatedly – and describing every move they make in great detail as it happens. Like any monster truck race announcer would do. He’ll be 5 tomorrow. And he’s chatty. It is a never-ending litany of whether or not they jumped – and if they jump, how much? The more they jump, the more points they get. They also get more points if they go further. Then there are nuances. How big was the jump? Did it turn over while it was jumping or when it landed?
It’s an elaborate, ever-changing point system. Fortunately, interested grunts and nods from me seem to be adequate for him. An occasional high 5 when one of them “wins the challenge.” Some wow’s. That’s apparently all he needs, thank goodness.
And soon here, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow’s another…