That's my boy

Sam is home sick today with a barking cough that frankly frightens the poo outta me. Kids are not supposed to sound like a bassett hound that has a possum treed. But that's just my opinion.

He's spent the morning so far lying on the couch slipping in and out of consciousness thanks to a liberal dose of Tylenol Sore Throat which is like a double shot of Jim Beam followed by a chaser of vodka and tequila. When his drunk finally wore off he asked if he could play PS2 and I said yes simply because I was just glad he wasn't in a coma.

I've been cleaning house, doing laundry, chasing toddlers and wiping baby butts and haven't paid much attention to him other than to occasionally go in and spray him down with Lysol, but a few minutes ago he found me in the laundry room and asked me to come see something.

The TV screen showed playing cards on the green fabric of a card table, not unlike what you'd see at any regular ol' real-life casino, or the places I otherwise like to call "home". The amount in his account was $4623. I said, "Wow, buddy! You won all that money playing Blackjack!?" He grinned proudly and said, "No, I was playing Snap." I have no idea what Snap is, but he is obviously good at it. I said, "Well, way to go, son. You seem to be pretty good at it." And while I was there I took a moment to kiss his forehead to check for fever, then I roughed up his hair and said, "You look like you're feeling better."

He said, "Yeah. I'm good. Okay, Mom, you can go back to what you were doing. I gotta get back to my gambling. You know, I love me some casino action."

And my heart swelled with so much pride I think I wet myself. Just a little.