An Outing!

That’s right, folks. I went on an outing today, and it wasn’t to my doctor’s office or the hospital. More on that in a moment.

And this is BEFORE he got dumped in the snow.

And this is BEFORE he got dumped in the snow.

But first, Das Big Boy and Herr Husband attempted a snow frolic. It was a fail. Das Big Boy’s snow clothes, as it turns out, are too small. This is actually quite heartening news, as we tried his snowsuit on at the beginning of the winter season (or in, like, October) and found that it still fit. But today, the snowsuit was tight enough to restrict his movement, and perhaps uncomfortably snug in the crotch. He also doesn’t have boots that fit, because I bought him nice boots last year, which proceeded to go unworn as we had history’s mildest winter. Herr Husband insisted we try to get the still-tagged boots on Das Big Boy’s little brick feet (which seem to grow two sizes out for every size they grow long), but, as Das Big Boy said, “The boots are too small.” We’ve been working a lot on big and small recently.

So he donned his too-small snowsuit, his Merrill shoes, and no gloves because he doesn’t have any. So we folded his snowsuit over his hands as if he were an infant. Naturally, this maneuver also meant his arms had to be hunched up in his suit. Sorry, Lovey! We topped off the outfit of misery with an adorable (and well-fitting) owl hat that The Red Baroness gave him for Christmas, and Herr Husband took him outside.

Once there, HH stashed him under a tree so he could get the sled out of the garage. DBB followed his daddy, faceplanted in a foot of snow, and was obviously none too pleased. Then the sled kept dumping him out because the snow was drifty and unpredictable in depth. Suffice it to say, my men returned very quickly. And then I drank a hot chocolate to make them feel better.

Now, the news you’ve all been waiting for: my trip into the outside world! Our kind neighbors invited us over to watch the Patriots game this afternoon, along with the rest of our neighborhood crew (There are four families in adjoining houses with kids between nineteen months and two-and-a-half–it’s basically why you move to the suburbs.) The hosts live directly across the street from us, which I reasoned is the same as walking from my car to my doctor’s office. And they had already made clear that I was expected to couch-flop. So we did it! I admit I was a bit nervous–my first outing! What if something went wrong? What if I forgot how to socialize? I held on to Herr Husband extra tightly as we navigated the steps and snowy street. Of course, once we arrived, it was delightful. It was so nice to chat and catch up with everyone, and they all kindly put up with my rusty social skills. Das Big Boy did a bit of whining when we first got there, but quickly got right into the mix with the other kids and had a great time! And my water didn’t break on their lovely new furniture! A win for the Husband Hausfraus and the Pats!

I don't want my daughter to look like this. For so many reasons.

I don’t want my daughter to look like this. For so many reasons.

We have Wee Mädchen’s final growth ultrasound tomorrow (provided everything goes ok). If you want to send a little positive energy her way, you can convince her to even out her growth just a bit: the Bratz/supermodel look is hot and all, but her doctors would like to see her abdominal girth even out with her head width (As would her mother, who is hoping to birth her naturally).

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