Today Samuel got his foot stuck in the door. It bruised it a bit but didn't break the skin. He was able to walk on it but was screaming like a banshee. I mean screaming so loud that I became 100% certain there are alien life forms and that Samuel has been chosen to communicate with them through his painful screams.
He made me carry him to the couch and asked if I would prop his foot up. Then he had the audacity to say, "I have a bad foot just like you Mom." No you don't Samuel. In fact, I told him just that: "No you don't Samuel. I know excruciating-talk-to-aliens-foot-pain and this isn't it." He didn't seem to buy it and just kept talking to the aliens. It's almost as if he thinks I'm being melodramatic.
I said, "Samuel, can you please stop screaming so loudly; it is going to be okay?" and he said, "Why do you keep saying it is going to be okay? It is never going to be okay ever again."
See what I'm living with? I'm living with myself. Only a worse version of myself: a 4 year old, out of touch with reality, version of myself.
If aliens really wanted to make contact with someone here on earth they should have chosen me over Samuel. I can give a much more accurate account of things.
Oh my gosh, while I was spell checking this Samuel said to me, "Mom, come over here and kiss me. I am close to death." Hahahahahaha! Is he English?