Things I may have forgotten to put on the blog, and things I would like to keep.
Nat just spontaneously made me a card that says :
NAT LUV TOO MUMY SPESHUL
with hearts. I am dying of pride and of the extreme cuteness.
And Geoff Busbridge, he's just done a second card that's waiting for you when you get home.
The girls are at my feet forcibly putting my slippers on and then taking them off again. Over and over. It's the most thrilling game in the world. I like it. All I have to do is sit here.
Nat told me yesterday that he couldn't wait to grow up because grown ups get to do whatever they want. He retracted his statement when I outlined what I'd like to do for the rest of the day. He didn't approve of the leaving the kids, going out to a coffee shop to read, going out shopping, going to a fancy restaurant and a luxury hotel plan. He did approve of the private jet, but a private helicopter with dinosaurs would have been better.
Last night I went and picked up Elizabeth from her crib, and sat in the chair to rock her. After a few minutes I thought, "Hey, she's trying to pinch me. Miriam does that." And then I thought, "She's wearing Miriam's sleeper." Sometime between eight and eleven last night they CHANGED CRIBS. I feel like one of those researchers whose octopi got out in in the night and unplugged all the electrical equipment and then got back in their tanks.
No, I did not put them in the wrong cribs. They're some kind of hyper mutant climbing toddler.
Me: Here, children, is your delicious lunch of pulled beef sandwiches with mozzarella and gravy.
Children: All collapse in despair about the hideous cruelty of mothers who try to feed their children awful, disgusting food.
Me: This is why I don't want to cook for you anymore. Let's just eat a diet of Goldfish crackers until you turn twenty.