It also states that any time you have absolutely NOTHING planned for the afternoon, and you'd really like to take a nap yourself, the child will nap for exactly 37 minutes and five seconds. And then will wake up screaming and in a crappy mood. And then you shall both glare at each other, bored to tears, for the rest of the afternoon.
Murphy's Law states that any time you make a sick visit to the doctor, the 101 degree fever you recorded JUST before leaving the house will have dropped to about 97 degrees by the time you reach the nurse's station.
Murphy's Law states that immediately after calling Early Intervention services to set up an appointment with a social worker for a small child's speech delay, said small child will pick up four new words.
It also states that in the week and a half between the social worker's visit and the actual evaluation meeting, the small child will begin saying like three new words A DAY. So that when the evaluation finally rolls around on Thursday, the therapists will look at your speaking child and wonder what your problem is - DUDE, he's talking JUST FINE.
Finally, Murphy's Law states that when you have a well visit appointment with the doctor that you REALLY want to go to, so you can maybe get some sound advice about your small child's persistent cough and how to make the damn thing GO AWAY, ALREADY... it will snow 3 - 6 inches the night before. Meaning the doctor's office will call you on Tuesday and say "hey, if we're closed tomorrow we'll call ya." Gee, thanks. Thanks a whole lot. C'mon. We live in PA now. Things aren't supposed to close for 3 - 6 inches of snow. That's what happens to sissies in Maryland. (Note - the doctor's office was open and on time. The nice doctor basically said "Get thee to an allergist" and gave us a list of names.)
What's that they say about "Red Sky in morning?" This is the sunrise Tuesday morning. Tuesday night, as I type this? Snowing like a sumbitch.
Dexter and Buddy, panting at each other. Nah, this child doesn't need special help. Not at all...
Pointing to all the basketball hoops in the gym at the YMCA on Sunday - we were there for a birthday party. Because, OMG, Mama! There's THREE basketball hoops! And a whole lot of balls! Also, he had a death grip on this balloon the entire time we were there. Except when he was finally convinced to go jump in the moon bounce, and I told him he had to leave the balloon outside.
Today we went to the Y after Dexter FINALLY woke up from his nap (with a little help from Mama) and he walked down the hallway saying "ball, ball, ball" the entire time. Because he really really wanted to go in to the gym to see all the damn basketball hoops again.
We have this much snow here Wednesday morning. Not a lot. John had to shovel the driveway. But our road was plowed by the time I got up, so that was cool. School here? Two hours late. School in Havre de Grace? CLOSED. Bunch of sissies...
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