Oh Zachy, My Zachy

This is a recreation.  Any similarities to a known person are absolutely and completely true, however, if I posted the picture how it really happened I would probably be arrested for posting inappropriate pictures of my own children.  Plus, who really wants to see that.  So anyway, let me tell you about Zach.  Well, before I tell you about Zach, let me tell you about how I tend to tell you about Zach.  I feel like Zach always gets slighted, is the third child totally sandwiched in between a whole bunch of other kids with seemingly more obnoxious personalities and then there is sweet, sweet (slightly aggressive) Zach.  Anyway, if there is one kid who will probably show up to take care of me in the nursing home, it's going to be him, so I need to take care of him now. 

Anyway, Zach tends to live life at 110 mph.  He goes at whatever he is doing 100 percent all of the time.  He is rocking kindergarten like it is no one's business (he does however refuse to pee at school because his teacher, with all the compassion and understanding {and frankly magic} that only a kindergarten teacher can possess explained to all of the boy students that they can't pee all over the toilet.  Zach took this to mean that he can't pee at school.  Ever.   Not even if you really have to go.  As such, he gets off the bus, sprints for home, and leans over the toilet and pees like a man newly freed from prison - if that man was not allowed to ever pee while in prison).  That was a really long parenthetical.  Another example:  he is taking a flag football clinic with some 4 and 5 year olds, and Zach tends to run on the big side of those boys.  I saw him up at the O-line giving some two and a half foot 4 year old the hand signal for "I've got my eyes on you, punk".  And he meant it.  That kid didn't go anywhere.

But, back to the picture at hand.  Zach runs at 110 mph until he just runs out of oomph.  Take last Friday night.  It had been a long week of school, we had played outside with our friends for a while and finally everyone collapsed into bed.  Matt went to make a final bed check and came back down and told me I needed to "come see this".  This usually isn't a good statement in our house.  Someone probably peed somewhere they shouldn't, pooped somewhere they should have but didn't flush (and my hubby is impressed that something so big came out of something so little), or the dog ate something she shouldn't have and I'm needed to dissect what could possibly have come up looking like that.  I was all nine-year old girl whine with "do I have toooooooo".  To which my husband answers:  "You are going to want to see this.  Any maybe explain it to me."  And, at the top of the stairs I was greeted with the above image, sans clothes.  Any clothes.  No clothes anywhere on this very large, incredibly tired 5 year old.  It was really quite jarring.  It's like he disrobed thinking, well, maybe I'll take a quick bath before I go to bed, took another look, thought the bath tub was just a wee bit too far away, looked the other way and thought, well my bed is just a smidge too far back that other way and now that my clothes are off, maybe I'll just lay here, naked as a jaybird and have a little sleepy-poo on this inexpensive, not very comfy, shag carpet.  I get it Zach.  There are times when I have just wanted to give up on life too and go to sleep.  Trust me, I get it.  I hope no one is ever there to capture the moment when I actually do.