You haven't heard from me a lot lately. I HAVE BEEN DROWNING IN THE DELIGHT OF TWO CHILDREN AT HOME IN DEAD OF SUMMER WITH TENNIS CAMP NOT STARTING UP AGAIN UNTIL TUESDAY.
You probably don't feel especially sorry for me. You're either in the midst of this yourself, or you have already been through it, or more wisely, have had your tubes tied so you figure my hell is my own problem. And poor Eric is having to learn the age-old dilemma of the father's true role: to listen to an exhausted wife, who upon his return from work mindlessly enumerates the low points of the day. Just as he is in agreement and ready to pack the children off to that sleepaway camp in the Poconos that will require his cheerfully procuring a second night job at the Food Spot, I find that my two angels are now blissfully sleep and sigh, "God, this is just the greatest."
I see his face: WTF????? But he has lived with me long enough to know that Death Cometh to the man that points out that this is a conflicting attitude from the one you were comandeering a mere hour and a half ago.
But as you know, some days are better than others. Days like this, where finally, my sweet little ten-month-old daughter, decides to crawl.
And just to remind us all that parenting has probably a say, oh twenty-percent success rate, here is a picture of one of my couches on which Simon is forbidden to lay:
He's not allowed on this one either: