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This is what happens when we get hot.
That is a Hot Fuss. Poor Sam, he takes after me I think, when he gets hot, he gets miserable. Too miserable to make much sense. (Yeah he could be my child.) He didn't want to drink, or swim, or move from touching me. Which, I gotta tell you, it was too hot for that. I didn't want him sticking to my lap. He didn't perk up until there were popsicles. But again, this may be my child IF, he likes popsicles...and he does. Chris likes to drink the juice, and Sam just wants it all, even the little plastic papers afterward.
But Sam didn't want to join in the pool unlike Big brother and the other kids at the festivities when we went to Amy's for a MOPS friends playdate.
At first Chris wasn't too interested in getting very wet, but we talked him into it, OK the other kids talked him into it. And he joined in, and he got wet, and he joined the assembly line taking cones, filling them with pool water, and cleaning off the picnic table. Why?
I don't know. But they were cute.
Somehow there was a black hole of time, all of a sudden, it was lunchtime, and we went inside. Ever notice how the kids don't care it's 90 million degrees and 99% humidity? Nope, they must still be retaining their gills, because I just get so hot and gross, sweating in places I didn't even know I had places. And I'm going to Florida next week, in the most hot time of the year, I'm going to central Florida. Even Eric thinks I'm Crazy. God Bless Air Conditioning. That's all I have to say about that.
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