Apparently, I’ve turned into quite a terror and I can destroy a room in record time. All of my therapists love this because it means I’m active and gaining strength, particularly in my upper body.
Mom isn’t so sure.
It’s taken a long time to recover from my open heart surgeries and to strengthen my overall low muscle tone. But I’m making great progress. And, like most kids, I’m curious. I love to empty purses, grab things out of the grocery cart, and open cabinets.
The other day, Mom had me in my stander. This lovely piece of equipment helps me practice standing and strengthens my bones by allowing gravity to pull on them. I get strapped into it at least once a day for about an hour.
While Mom was distracted in the kitchen, I managed to pull myself over to the table. There, the temptation for destruction was too great: I threw a couple of glasses onto the floor. Johnny announced that the glass had shattered into 1000 pieces. Upon closer inspection, he modified that number to 600.
Well, Mom walked in, threw her hands in the air, and declared that I am a hot mess. As I’m learning lots of sign language, I immediately mimicked her.
So this is my new sign. For hot mess.