After months of discomfort and sub-par attempts at home treatment and self-diagnoses, I finally decided to seek help for my nagging running injuries. Apparently, I have the procrastinating personality that just does better with the necessary exercises and stretches knowing that I have someone to follow-up with. Less than two weeks later, I’m feeling a million times better and regretting not doing this sooner.
Part of the treatment included some very intense stretching. The kind of hurt-so-good stretching that I would never be able to do on my own. So after making my kids sit quietly for an hour during my initial appointment (they both had an iPod Touch, so don’t be feeling too bad for them), I decided to reward their outstanding behavior by letting them choose snacks at the grocery store.
As we were getting out of the vehicle in the store’s parking lot, our simple and innocent exchange of words had me looking in all directions to see if anyone was within earshot and silently praying that J, the boy who doesn't forget a thing, would not repeat this at Sunday school.
Me: Oh (in a pleasurable moan kind of way), that felt SO good.
J: What did, mommy?
Me: Oh, that guy.
It’s only a matter of time before this comes back to haunt me.
1 comment:
Ha! So sad I don't have him in Sunday School... : )
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