Today my two grandsons had some minor, outpatient surgery. The youngest was first on the list to go to the OR. (Youngest first, seems always to be the rule--and I think rightly so.) They gave him a dose of "drowsy" medication which didn't seem to quick to take effect, but did seem to be working.
His mother and I knew for sure he was "under the influence" when she asked:
"So, how are you feeling?"
And he responded,
We both cracked up.
(He wasn't quite so mellow when all the "deeper sleep inducing" meds began wearing off. But then, that does happen sometimes. Ever see an angry bull? Or little bull?)
Back at home this afternoon while older brother lamented his pain and anguish, Little Britches encouraged his mother . . . "Hey, let's play tackle." (The bull was beginning to show his colors again!)