Laser blast.

When I came down to breakfast this morning, my 7 yr old son, S., was reading a Marvel Spiderman comic book and the Hubbster was reading the newspaper. They were sitting side by side, both silently eating cereal. One was in his jammers and one in a shirt and tie.

"You boys are cute," I said, kissing them both on the head.

After a little pause, S. pointed his hand toward the cereal box and made a laser sound "Zzzzst!" then he pantomimed that the laser bounced off the cereal box and reflected onto my husband with an exploding sound and hand motions. S. grinned and said, "I just turned you into cereal, Dada."

I said, "Boy energy is different, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, said my husband, as he pretended that the laser blasted him in the chest and knocked him around, as he transformed into Wegmans brand Fruity Pebbles.

In FS news, apparently May calls have started. But we aren't expecting to hear anything. The PD register is up to 107 now. Ugh...and double ugh. We are inhabiting a spot about halfway down the list. So, not expecting a May call. The Hubbster is still reading thrilling books with titles such as, "Conjugating German Verbs."

This waiting is tough. I'm trying to be very Zen about it. But I feel like blasting a Fruity Pebble laser right through the computer at the FS register, melting it into a blob of oozing, smoldering, stinky putrid jumbled numbers. BRrrzzzzzstt!!