Sometimes waking up is no fun. We wake up and we hurry out of the house only to drop you off and be away from one another...which, truth be told, is probably just fine for you, but is no fun for me at all. But sometimes on those days we wake up and go outside and our Hibiscus has bloomed... Those days are good.
We went into the city (and to my office where you, my dear...whined and screamed until you were allowed to walk around with condoms. I've chosen to believe that this is very early social and healthcare activism in you...Way to advocate for safer sex, Man.) and on our way to the office walked by a pedestal...with nothing on it...CLEARLY it was there waiting for us to come and place you upon it to take pictures, right?
You went and saw Grams and Grandpa with Papa Punkin...You all had a great time, they were amazed at how mobile and active you are now! You're a very impressive person, Little...When they went home, you and Papa walked down to Dolly, Max and Rosie's and you and Rosie played for a bit and then we went home. You had your third night terror. I see a clear pattern, I think they're gonna be pretty easy to stave off from here on. Such a scary name for such a relatively benign thing. I mean, they're not fun for the person seeing it happen, but it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest. And oddly enough, you seem to wake up very cheerful the mornings after. Weird.
No comments:
Post a Comment