Max is alive. And unharmed. And, frankly, lucky to be that way.
In spite of the fact that he had field day today at school, he ran out of the classroom for the first time in months. The school called. It was right at the end of the day, so they wanted to know if they should just put him on the bus like usual. Yeah. Do that. Sigh.
In spite of the fact that I greeted him cordially and then took him over the the park to run after the aerobe a bit, then read to him and Davan, then played with Playdough with him, then wrestled with him, then read him a book alone, then started a game of Mancala (which we had to end due to blatant cheating), he's been a shit all day.
Even when I try hard. I do stuff with him, he's a shit. I don't because he's a shit and he's a shit. Excuse the language, please. I'm off to plan my escape.
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