Starshine has had a busy weekend. He made a youtube video with his friend in which the two fight a light saber duel to the death. They titled it "You Shall Die."
No, I don't worry about my kids.
Also, Starshine and my hubby were playing a game of catch with a football when Starshine grabbed the ball, ran for a touchdown, and tackled himself.
Yes, you read that right.
He seemed to forget we were even there, grabbed the ball, began a sport's announcer's running commentary, hiked the ball to himself, called the play, tackled himself, got up, ran, tackled himself again, and managed to get up and make it across the goal line before being tackled by the entire opposing team, who mercilessly threw him onto the ground several times and pummeled him until he lay still.
We just watched in awe. It's not every child who can play every member of both football teams plus the announcer without assistance.
Today, Starshine received a bandanna at church and was allowed to write his name on it in blue puffy paint.
That was fine.
He then decided to wear it. On his head. When I picked him up, I complimented his accessory (even though Paul thought it made him look like a mini-Aunt Jemima) and approved the spelling of his first name across the top of his head only to be informed that he'd written his last name too.
When I inquired as to the location of the additional seven letters of blue puffy paint, I was told they were on the flip side of the bandanna.
The one currently pressed against his hair.
Yes, the paint was still wet.
Yes, it stuck to his hair.
Yes, I've cut a large swath of hair off the back of his head and he still has blue paint on his scalp.
I've assured him that warriors of old named Picts would paint themselves that very shade of blue before heading off to battle so he looks like a scary soldier from the Middle Ages.
Starshine the Pict. God help us.
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