Sticks and Stones and Stitches

May you have a happy birthday;
And wherever your head may now lay,
May it be cushioned by spam and jellay!

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Poor Jesse! This morning, he was feeling pretty bad, so he went over to Hall Health.  They told him he had strep throat, and that they'd have to do surgery in his throat to remove fluid from his flooding tonsils.  He was understandably scared; however, after having a few more doctors inspect his throat, they concluded he only had a nasty case of tonsilitis.  So he's in bed now, feeling pretty blech.  Hope he's feeling better soon.

So, there's a birthday boy among the readers, if I understand it correctly.  When I first learned the lockpicking skills at 4 years of age, I tested it on his head with a bunch of Hot Wheels cars.  While those are understandably not the best picks, it certainly opened up his poor little 2-year-old forehead.  He got better, though.

Then there was the red wagon we had in California.  One of us would sit, while the other would pull in circles around the tree in our backyard.  He decided it was his turn, so I began running with the wagon behind.  For the fun of it, I decided to take him through the best part of the ride really fast: the rocky, rooty section underneath the tree swing.  I easily dodged the wooden swing base.  He, however, didn't.  The corner of the swing caught him right on the top of his noggin.  Stitches!

This was also the kid who loved to eat.  He found his way into the kitchen one day, and saw some pudding sitting in the open dishwasher door, which he rapidly consumed.  He had to go to the hospital to have the detergent pumped out of his stomach.

Ever since he learned his Basic Weaponry skill, he's collected various sticks, named them, patched them up, and beautified them in various ways.  He then uses one or two select special ones to beat on various opponents, whether they be trees, people, ghosts, or the latest threat to the peace of the tree fort.

Ethan, here's to another year.  Happy 17th birthday!