I'm really just posting for the pure pleasure of banging on the keyboard.  I really don't know what I have to say.  So here is my best imitation of an update:

*Sam is riding his bike with my mom, dad, friend John down some trail.  As we speak (type) they are probably all laying in a jumbled heap on the side of the road as the speedier bikers zoom past with nary a second glance. 

*Sam was playing the infamous screaming monkey computer game (see previous post which describes his attempt at throwing a chair across the room when stopped from playing this game).  This time he felt that my mom (and not the ugly brown chair) was thwarting his game playing efforts.  Put her in a headlock. 

Felt like I was blocking him from rolling away.  Put me in a headlock. 

Yelled all sorts of threats.  Shook his fist in the air and continue to yell dire threats at any and all potential game-blocking enemies. 

May have actually turned into a screaming monkey at one point.  But maybe not...I could be fibbing about that. 

Sister was SURE he had turned into a raving lunatic and sister might have punched him, twice, in the shoulder after she escaped from scary headlock.  But sister apologized later. 

Turned out that the whole screaming monkey tantrum had little to do with any potential frontal lobe damage and more to do with high testosterone levels.  So Sam will be skipping the good ole testosterone gel patch tomorrow. 

*Sam has talked  forced my mom and grandmother (Mommy Del) into playing Quiddler (otherwise known as The Really Dumb Word Game That My Sister Hates So Very Much).  I offered an alternative.  "Hey, I know" says me. "Let's talk instead."  And, without even looking up from his cards, Sam says, "You always want to talk.  Let's play."  So...this little part of the update would fall under the catagory "Sam is Treating His Sister in a Very Pre-Accident Sort of Way" which could be condensed under the title "MEAN BOY".  In fact, maybe I'll change the name of this blog all together.  I mean, it's all well and good that he survived insurmountable odds, came out of a three-month coma, learned to talk and walk again, yada, yada, yada.  But does that give you the right to go around putting people in headlocks and doing air punches at their heads.  Does it?  DOES IT?  So I, from this moment on, I shall scrap the former name Miracle Boy.  He, from this day forward, shall be known as MEAN BOY (or The Boy Who Was Formally a Miracle And Is Now Just Plain Mean)

All hail Mean Boy. 

Rah.

Bec