The 15th anniversary of the extraction of the Middlest Child was fast approaching and with my brain and days filled to near overflowing I felt it best to be as organised as far ahead of time as possible.
I attempted, with some 4-6 weeks to spare, to extract some sort of information or idea about what he may like to do to celebrate the occasion. This resulted in a fair amount of “I don’t know” which is pretty much the extent of his vocabulary. At least, I think he said “I don’t know”.
It is hard to decipher the low and deep mumbles that rumble up through his throat and half-heartedly slip from between his partially parted lips. Mostly because they tend to lose any sort of motivation and simply flomp in the direction of the floor, because his posture does nothing to encourage it do to otherwise.
So I went with “I don’t know” because, well, I don’t know what he said.
Over a period of days and something akin to the Spanish Inquisition, I ultimately established that he wanted a few friends over so they could play