The Max: Do you know Santa’s address?
Me: Yup. The North Pole
The Max: That’s it?
Me: Well, it’s not like anyone else lives there.
The Max: I suppose. I am going to write him a letter.
Exactly nine months before Christmas my son wrote his letter to Santa. I read it anxiously. Hoping that Santa could provide whatever toy or game was going to be pined for all year long. Never expected this:
My confusion was obvious to The Max as I read the letter. Max simply explained, “I want to see the inside of my body!”
Of course, that’s every child’s dream.
I still resent not getting copies of the MRI and CT scans of my noggin. Now I have no proof of activity.
Still, if you have private healthcare you should insist on him being entitled. It’s your hard earned money and you should be allowed to determine how they use your radioactive material.
My cat has health insurance. No one else does. When it’s 11 dollars a month for me, like it is for the kitty, I’ll be able to afford it 😉
The Max is a little odd. But in an amazing way. No doubt whatsoever where he gets it.