Well, I named him after the right Dirt Dog: boy has so many bumps and bruises on his forehead that the scar tissue he is developing would make Dusty Rhodes green with envy.
Kids were playing in the garage today, and Trot was doing his "get into everything" act and climbed the garage steps. Before Angie could get to him, head first he went, cracking his head on the brick step.
You can see by the lovely purple colored goose egg in the center of his head that he took a direct hit. But while the step won the battle, Trot won the war: within 3 minutes he was up and at 'em again. I'm surprised Rakes has not taken a sharpie and played connect-the-dots with all the bruises on Trot's forehead yet: it's gotta be coming though.
Thanks to Aunt Stacy, who came tearing over on 2 wheels when Angie could not reach me: the fact the 2 of them were close to panic when I got home is beside the point: I appreciated the effort. Stacy said that the guardian angel's who look after my kids work overtime, and Sis, I think you may be right.
As for the Sox, tonight was a MUCH better night: Julian went 7 innings, gave up 2 runs, and waved, pointed, and hollered like an air traffic controller at JFK. JD Drew went 3 for 4 with a walk hitting out of the lead off spot, and Munchkin went 5 for 5 with 5 RBI's out of the 2 hole, including a 2 run bomb in the first to tie it up. That Francona: by gosh, he may know what he's doing after all.
10-2 Sox, and I hope all the doomsdayer's will all go sit and spin for awhile: Sox, still in first, now up by 8.5 since 67 year old Rogah got beat by the Mets tonight.
Order is now restored to the Universe.
I love Friday nights.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
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