Wounded.

Dylan took a hit at karate class yesterday. The hell of it was, I wasn't even there to see it. I was sitting in the car trying to get rid of my headache. Since I broke my glasses, I've had to wear my old pair and they're the wrong script. So now my head pounds out "Anvil Chorus" all day, every day.

Soooo...what drove me to the car were three little demons...err, kids who kept up a constant stream of high-pitched gigglyness while their mothers chattered on and on and on, unawares. When the hour is up, I go back into the dojo and there's Dyl by the water cooler, holding an ice pack to his head. He was hit by a much bigger kid during a sparring session. When I tucked him into bed last night, he whispered "Mom, I cried. That was the first time I ever cried in karate. I just couldn't hold it in." God, what a kid. I hugged him and told him it was OK to cry, that he should never be ashamed to do so.

Apprentice fans: Weren't you ever so glad to see that yappy little baggage Melissa get shit-canned?

more to come, I'm too tired tonight to type....Zzzzzz....