Yo, Nap, you used to post daily. Where’ve you been?
Well, both kids are sick and have staggered their nighttime screaming so that I’m up ever half hour or so. I can barely complete a sentence, let alone be coherent or interesting. I just finished a client project, Hanukkah, all of our Christmas mailings, half a dozen kindergarten tours, and an awesome apathy themed party. Luckily, this is the Internet, so you won’t know how long it’s been since I showered.
This week’s effulvia:
Butter can play the kazoo. It’s hilarious and I amuse myself for hours watching him play the kazoo, take it out and shake it to figure out how it works, then jam it in his mouth again.
Peanut is pretty hilarious lately. When he’s not being a nasty, petulant, whiny little thing, he’s making us laugh. Thank goodness, because my patience is razor thin. “Mom, there’s just no way I’m having protein today. I’m just gonna have sugar until I die. Bye bye.” His language skills are miraculous. “I’m gonna snap up Butter and eat him then let his empty shell tumble into the trash.” Dude. You’re four. What do you know about empty shells? Oh. Well, yes, good point about your mom.
Finally had the guts to take my favorite patchwork sundress from toddlerhood, and the retro diner-esque green and brown dress I bought for Butter before I knew he was a he, and send them to my nieces. It was hard to do but I am so much happier now. Life and love and joy and frolicky frocks ought never be laid away in boxes. And every wiggle and scramble and dash and giggle of those girls in the reds and greens and yellows of my fierce hope for women of the future is exactly what those dresses were made for.