The Devil Made Me Do It

My younger brother Marc is going to kill me for writing this.

I remember when we were kids, I swear, he could've won an Academy Award.

The boy had all of his teachers snookered.  They'd tell my parents how he was a model

child, kind, courteous and oh, so well mannered.

He was Mr. Hyde at home.

All spit, vinegar and fury.

In fact, I secretly referred to him as Satan's spawn.

(Thankfully, he grew out of that and is an incredible brother now).

My point is, Kean clearly takes after his Uncle Marc, the younger version.

I had to go to the first day of a two day disability training meeting.

My mom watched Keanut for the morning and my dear friend Kim Leach

took over for the afternoon.

When I got home, Kean was soooo sweet-- hugging on her, hugging on me, then back to her.

I was worried about leaving him after yesterday's Chemo-- but Kim told me he was wonderful.

Yep, he was until about an hour after she left.



Then Angel Boy turned into Anger Boy.

Old shades of Uncle Marc emerged.

I'm pretty sure we can blame it on the steroids Kean is back on again.



 Thankfully he's only on it for ten times each month

and won't end up going back to the Buddha Baby stage (see below).

But we will get Roid Rage Boy.

Oh well.

p.s. Byron opened up our one remaining hive tonight.

It looks healthy and thriving.

Keep your fingers crossed the little guys survive and we get some honey-- yum.