Recuperating from Grandma Camp

Ten things I gained in one month of living the three-year-old dream life (aka Camp Grandma):

10. A nasty cold that his mother gave me when she dropped him off. (Thanks.)

9.  A fist-sized bruise on my butt from the giant cracked slide that I would let him go down only on my lap. (So he wouldn't get a fist-sized bruise. Duh!)

8. A wounded handed that felt like a freaking dog bite from the same Monster Slide.

7. Elbow rug burns from wrestling on my carpeted floor.

6. A ferocious ear infection from having pool water splashed directly in my ear canal. (I might never hear right again.)

5. Two steps closer to senility because half of my brain now has the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song on permanent replay. (They're two. They're four. They're six. They're eight.)

4. Five extra pounds on my Roaring Grandmom's belly because every time I bribed him with ice cream, I rewarded myself with the same.  (He doesn't share food. Ever. Unless he's eating mine.)

3. A now neurotic cat who has developed a fear of anyone under three feet tall. 

2. The need for a new mattress. (I'm sure you can guess.)

1. A full heart.

After all, none of the rest matters.