Fright...

Yesterday, I told you all about Didgeridoo Boy's morning post-bad-stuff-on-GoKittenGo's-Facebook-wall mania. He indulged that urge thoroughly and soundly, and with heretofore unheard of gusto. After his frenzy, we went out to run errands, and I said that I thought those were sure to provide "an interesting ride". A friend agreed - Didge seemed to be gearing up for something epic.

But here's something really interesting: Nothing happened. Now, granted, he did managed to do something keenly foul in the toy department at Walmart, however, there were no antics that could even be considered mid-range. No bizarre power strolling, no speaking Didgerifurbee, no outbursts of, "LOO LOO LOO LOO LOOOOO!", nothing. Not one blasted thing. He was polite and cooperative.

And that was freakin' scary. Enjoyable, but scary. I found myself afraid of when he might up and explode into a highly creative fit of his own brand of performance art in the middle of the housewares, concerned that he was gathering his energy for something really, truly out there by Didge standards. (I think we're all aware of how distressing a few minutes that could be.) But it never happened. Certainly, I thought, he'll go up and at 'em when we get home - - but that didn't happen, either.

He calmly watched a few movies, and then told me that I didn't have to fix dinner because he didn't feel very well, and turned in for an early night. The thought of this makes me frown. Why does it make me frown?

Anyway, it was very nice. He was very calm, and subsequently, I was very calm. But I'll be straight up: I am good and scared of what might be coming up. I know this man.