This morning, I woke up in a pretty good mood.  Wog only woke up once, I crawled into bed with him and then we slept away until after 7:30.  That’s pretty huge!  After he and HH left, I turned on the TV and it kind of hit me like a ton of bricks… it was September 11th.  My good mood quickly faded.

Despite the overcast weather, it was easy to go along with my usual Friday morning activities: dishes, the grocery store, picking Wog up from preschool.  He was especially proud of a sticker that was on his shirt.  He chattered about it all the way to the gas station.  He kept trying to show it to me, but all I could manage was an “Uh huh” and “That’s great” since I really couldn’t very well turn around while I was driving.

After pulling up to the pump, I stepped out into the mist and proceeded to chat with the kids through the rolled-down window while the gas pumped.  It was then that Wog pulled his sticker off of his shirt and held it out for me to see.

It was a flag.  The American flag.  I began to cry.  (Thank goodness for the misty weather.)

Today he’s clueless.  It’s a cool day because he got a sticker.