So...a meteorite injured five hundred people in Russia? What? Aren't they keeping track of these things? Can you imagine how scary that would be? Those things are supposed to stay in the damn sky. That's my scientific assessment of that event.
Yesterday Owen wanted to play something new. He wanted his grandmother and grandfather to pretend we were married which we are incredibly good at. I believe he meant he wanted us to pretend we were having a wedding but still. I said, "What do married people do?"
He looked at me as if I'd recently fallen off a turnip truck and said, "Dance."
So he sat on the stairs holding the alligator xylophone and played dance music and Boppy and I danced together, Gibson on my hip. It was a lovely wedding.
Gibson's cutting molars and has the resulting diarrhea which makes his little butt hurt so he's not as happy as he usually is. He wants to be held. I hold him. It's tough being a baby. People don't realize that, I think. It must be perfectly miserable to have tooth pain, tummy pain and butt pain all at the same time. We'd be begging for drugs if it was us but Gibson just sits in my lap or on my hip looking seriously at the world. Owen did a lot of puzzles yesterday. It's like he's all of a sudden figured out the puzzle thing. Look out, Will Shortz! There's a new puzzle master in town! So there was puzzle-doing and baby-holding and wedding dancing. There was also bed-fishing and cookie-making. Diaper-changing and snack-eating. My lunch was two leftover fajitas eaten standing up in the kitchen. It was a busy day. I also had the pure pleasure of reading Shel Silverstein's "A Giraffe And A Half" to Owen and he laughed so hard I thought he'd pop. Another interesting interlude came when Owen demonstrated what it would be like to have baby dinosaurs in your pants.
It tickles. Obviously.
The kid never quits.
Last night Lily sent me a picture of a boo-boo he got near his eye when he whacked a chair. She made the mistake of showing him the picture too and he freaked out thinking that all of his blood was going to run out. He had to talk to me on the phone about it and also about the fact that he'd left his brother's Valentine's Day stuffed animal here. He was devastated. I told him he would be fine and that he could get his brother's dog or whatever the hell that thing is today. They're coming out again for awhile. Here's what the chair in my hallway looks like right now.
Awhile back, Owen found an entire stash of his aunt Jessie's and his mother's old Beanie Babies. They live in a canvas shopping bag now and yesterday he brought those out and set up a museum. You know, I can't recall a time in my life EVER when there wasn't toys all over my house. Toys and books. Yesterday I asked Owen if he thought my house was "magical."
He considered this.
"No," he answered.
I think he does. He just doesn't realize it.
It is when he's here, anyway.
Well, let the magic proceed. Watch out for meteorites.
Happy Friday, y'all.