Woah. Dude.

Since the week after Thanksgiving, our household has been plagued by an unusual convergence of food issues. Well, actually, we've apparently been suffering with it for a while, but have only recently identified our issues. S has been tentatively labeled as "Failure to thrive." Which, as I can sort it out, is a medical diagnosis for "doesn't eat any food." Since Thanksgiving, we have been in medical purgatory waiting to identify a cause for this (clearly not inherited) disorder. In response to this ambiguous disorder, I have been eating my anxiety, as any normal mother would do. Right? RIGHT!?!? So, we have the interesting dichotomy of small baby, fat mother. Jack Sprat and his Mom.

I was chatting with my neighbor and her husband about this situation. Partly, because I haven't seen them since forever, and also because I feel compelled to explain my recent bloat. He happens to be a physician, and they are of rather conservative lifestyle, so I appreciated his candid input.
There's only one truly reliable appetite stimulant that I know of, says he. It has significant side effects, though.
Sure, I say. Lay it on me. Maybe the side effects are worth it.
Medical Marijuana, says he.
As in the cartoons, the skies part, the rays of sunshine beam down upon me, and the angels burst out in choir.
Hallelujah! HALLlelujah! Hallellujahahallelujajallejah!
Why haven't I thought of this? My kid with a killer case of the munchies. All is solved.
I'm working on it, now. Do I give my kid a little joint? Can't you just see S with a joint dangling out of his mouth? Exhaling with a cough cough cough. Passing the roach?
Or, do I become the most popular mom at school and make special brownies? Everyone comes home from Julie's house feeling happy!
As an added bonus, I could quit antidepressants and mooch off S's script. The whole family would be healed. It's a medical marijuana miracle! When everybody gets home from work and school, we could pass the dutchie. Homework? Meh. Dinner? Hells yeah. What should we make for dinner? Rice Krispie treats and chicken wings. Hooray! Ramen with Stove Top Stuffing? YAY! Mom, you're the BEST.
Can't you just see my half-lidded boys showing up at school with, "Sorry ma'am. I didn't do my homework. We were stoned."
The side effects? Sure, my kid is six feet tall as an adult, but man is he LAZY. The house would have stacks of laundry (which it does now, of course) BUT I wouldn't care. We could give S his "medicine" before a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese & he'd be set. He could watch the animatronic animals all afternoon and then chow on some pizza. That's my idea of remedy. We could all watch Spongebob together now. Wait...we could home school! Everyone would take their "medicine" and then we'd watch Sunrise Earth on the Discovery Channel. Educational AND stimulating to the 'enhanced mindset.' We could make hemp jewelry and practice rolling joints for crafts. We could throw a bong on a potter's wheel. We could do chemistry and watch spiders crawling along the wall and listen to Pink Floyd for music appreciation.
Suddenly, I see my future more clearly than ever before. And it all hinges on a script for medical marijuana.
Please, please please. Help our family. Send a dime bag by.