It is November tenth. Three of my surrounding neighbors have their homes decked in Christmas lights. Oh suburbia, how I love you, how I hate you, all at the same time. We dropped the ball by only having three baby pumpkins in our yard, I know. We will try our best to live up to your expectations for the winter season. Would a Nativity lawn scene suffice? If we just outline the front of our house with lights, and save the high scary roof pitches, we hope you will not mind.
Tonight when I walked my baby down the street and to the park nearby, she ran immediately to the tire swing. She would hardly do play with any other big toy tonight. When she tired of sitting on it she said, "underneath" and went through the middle and out from below. Underneath.
What's the word on the street? No, not underneath, tired.
I am sitting in the guest room while Matt gets Lucia ready for bed. I take off and hide while he performs bath duty, book duty and has a possible showing of Elmo. If I put her down, she throws a fit and cries "mama, mama, mama!" If he puts her down, she quietly drifts off to sleep. She has my number; so she knows I am a sucker.
But what she has yet to learn about her mama...obsessed with clothes, Sweden, Czech, France, Grammar Girl and all things old and gold.
Happy almost Friday to you.
And me.
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