And so it continues

This morning I found myself at the end of string with nothing but madness attached to the other end. I am so dead-beat from a week of waking up at 5 a.m. every day to get Loren to the soccer field for his practices. While he runs his ass off, I walk the dogs because his new school is too far away to justify going home. I don’t want the other soccer moms to see me trying to sleep in the car so I figure some exercise is good for my butt anyway. On the way home from practice we picked Devon up from Matt’s and then Loren disappeared into his room for some much needed rest. I tried to get some work done while Devon watched Curious George but he decided that was far too humdrum and so proceeded to perch on the chair arm and chirp into my ear how we should find a Buzz Lightyear site on the computer.
Giving up on productivity, I went tossed a load of laundry in the washer and proceeded to clean up the kitchen. The only snag being that Devon decided to pitch in and help. But then he got bored and started digging through the cabinets in search of fun. After a few minutes I felt metal poking in my calf and I turned around to find him once again armed with the mini crockpot, the blue funnel and a look of longing on his cherubic face.
“Oh shit, ” I thought to myself, “Why the hell can’t he just be freaking normal????” Devon again demanded that I remove my shirt as he pushed a stool near me, climbed up on it and tried to fit the funnel to my breasts. I was at a loss. Should I slap his hand away, tell him to stop being a freak and hurt his feelings? I tried explaining that my girls were no longer functional, but he simply shook his head, smacked his lips and kept trying to tug on my shirt. So I decided to give it a go. Yes, I know if it wasn’t weird before now it’s full on freak-a-rama time. We got out some of his goat milk and poured some in a cup. I then pulled up my shirt, pushed up my jog bra, hoping Loren was nowhere near, and fit the funnel to mt breast. I made sort of a whining, machine -like sound and then poured the goat milk into the crock pot. Devon was vibrating with excitement and began muttering to himself about how it was too hot just yet. He turned his back on me, making it obvious that my part was done and kept working on the milk. After a few minutes he poured it into a sippy cup and glugged it down.
Deciding that we really needed to get out of the house, I rounded up the boys, Cassidy is in Lake Powell with a friend for the weekend, and headed into town for some errands. Loren spent some babysitting money on some new soccer stuff, I splurged and got myself the iTrip that I have been wanting for over a year and I even got Devon a Woody doll that talks. It was indulgent but I figured Woody keep him occupied and give me some time to hide the crock pot.
Is it all too weird?