21 June 2013
Enzo wakes up. First words: “Do you want to go ultra old school?”
When I got home from work yesterday, a sign on the door of Enzo’s room said, in Teresa’s big block printing: KILLER ROOM. Enzo was outside riding bikes with the neighbor kid. Later he came inside and showed me all the killer features: a snake coiled in my writing fort, a scorpion under the rug, a black widow lurking on the humidifier.
“Duncan has a super-atomic wedgie! Fakin’ it!”
My mom sent Enzo a little super-powerful magnifying glass with an LED light. It looks like jeweler’s loop. Maybe it is that. We’ve checked out avocado skin, our own skin, and the skin of different dinosaurs in his books. “They’re the same,” he said about the dinosaur skin and then added, “I want to see the chemicals.”
Teresa is wandering around the house saying, “If I don’t find my glasses, I’m going to have to poop in my pants.”
So. They’re home, and it’s just like sunshine.
Kind of hard to get any work done. But as Enzo would say, who even cares?