My son, Mothman.

I decided this afternoon that my son has reached an age where it should be required by law to keep him locked up like a caged wild animal. Mostly because he is a wild animal. Obviously there was a horrible mix up at the hospital last year and they mistakenly gave me the adorable wild boar couple's baby from down the hall. My house, my son, and my sanity are completely in shambles.

Today boar-child and I went to a friends' house to relax and visit and that is exactly the opposite of what happened. I spent the 2 hours or so that we were there chasing him around the house trying to stop him from destroying every object in my friends' home in addition to her brand new (very expensive) wood floors. He tried to eat muddy shoes. He tried to pull the tablecloth (and everything, including lunch, with it) off of the table. He dumped his milk on her aforementioned brand new (very expensive) wood floors. He tried to climb on top of her 3 month old granddaughter. He attacked her dog with a rattle. Are you getting the idea yet? I'm pretty sure the stress of the visit killed brain cells.

And then it happened....

My son ate a dead moth.

And that is the thought that I will leave you with today. Enjoy.