spitballs and losing control

here's how you know you've lost control:

as aiden and i picked up colton and chase from school yesterday, i notice in the mirror that colton is holding his left ear and his eyes are really bloodshot. when we got home, he basically collapsed on the couch while i was getting aiden and chase in from the car. i felt of him and he was burning up...the thermometer agreed and displayed 102.5. i gave him motrin and he was asleep. while i was dealing with this and seeing our san antonio, seaworld, superman birthday extravaganza going up in antibiotic-filled smoke, i hear chase scream from the other room. as i round the corner i can't help but do a double take. am i seeing this right? there's chase running toward me while holding his enire cast up in the air in his right hand. is it just me, or is the whole purpose of the cast to stay on. how could a three year old get the thing off. this is not just a temporary cast people, this is the full on tightly fitting, fiberglass cast that we are dealing with. i was just noticing the night before how tight it seemed around his thumb and fingers, wishing that they had made it a little looser so that it could at least air out a little. (imagine the activity level, sweat, bacteria and dirt of a little boy all contained in a dark, moist place. needless to say, the smell of the exposed arm was not pleasant.) all-the-while...aiden is carrying a bottle of ranch dressing around the house and i have absolutely no idea how and when she got it. in case you're wondering...this is the moment you realize that you are no longer in control. i used to live in control...now it's just a place i occationally visit.

quick funny story...the other night, we had an early dinner so that we could all go outside and enjoy the cooler weather. we were playing baseball in the backyard. colton was the pitcher, chad was the outfielder, chase was the run around the yard (field) kicking a soccer ball while feeling a part of the game guy, aiden was all-time cheerleader while swinging on the swingset, and i was the batter. i had already hit a few and been chased around the yard by the boys trying to get me out, and pelted a couple of times by chad while rounding 3rd (which i was beginning to get tired of, by the way) when colton gave me a special treat. i'm all prepared to knock it out of the park when colton, while peaking out at me over his black baseball glove(something he's picked up watching andy pettitte) winds up for a great pitch. i make a mental note that this one's going to be good. then he pitches like he's never pitched before. he drills it right at my head and i happen to quickly catch it before it hits me. as i do, i feel that the ball is wet...i mean REALLY wet. i say, "uhhh, why is it wet?" and colton says, "that's what you call my spit ball."