I was sitting outside Sophia's room tonight, shushing her, because the child will happily talk until dawn if you don't shut that show down. And later it struck me that one of the things she'd asked was, "Mom? Will GLUE stick to KITTIES?"
And now that question is haunting me.
Speaking of things Sophia has to say, tonight she followed me into the bathroom and was admiring my panties. Before I had much of a chance to feel pretty, though, she followed that up with the observation that my bottom is fat.
"Hey," I said mildly, "it's not very nice to talk about someone's body like that."
"Oh," she said, "sorry. But Mom. Look at it."
And that is both true, and very bad advice. Bless her.
I remember when I was a wee pup of a teen, noticing the scaly feet of non-pup-aged women. Ugh, I would think, in process of laying down some karma to come back to me today, why can't they just put some lotion on their feet? Is it THAT HARD?
Now, as a 42-year-old woman, I can say with authority, yes. It is THAT HARD.
Hey, would you all like me to tell you the story of Clay's and my courtship? Heh. Makes it sound like he showed up on a Sunday afternoon in his fringe-topped surrey, doesn't it? Anyhow, I realized that I never really talked about it here, and I was wondering if anyone was interested. I'm assuming I'd end up with a book contract, like the Pioneer Woman. Because that's exactly how that works, right?
Two thing happened a few weeks ago: Raphael turned twelve, and the next day this blog turned ten. TWELVE! And TEN! Blows my mind, both of them. And I need to write up a birthday post about my elderly twelve-year-old son, but the only decent pictures I have of his birthday are on Max's camera, and I don't know how to work it and he's gone at camp. I am a complete failure at pictures. This is probably the main reason I don't have a book contract yet. That and the fact that I've never written any books.