I’m rereading Middlemarch and drinking Rioja in my underwear while everyone else in my house sleeps. And this follows a day on which the Kinder and I took the train to Boston, ate lunch at South Station, played in the Children’s Museum for 3+ hours, charmed folks at “Daddy’s office,” and took the train home. And on the way home, DBB told me he was going to marry me. So pretty much the perfect day. Take that, Siri. And Freud.
I’m almost afraid to talk about this bliss because I know the gods will smite me with eight wingdings over breakfast foods, tears at school drop-off, blowouts, vomit, and nine million wake-ups tonight. Right now I say it’s worth it. Ask me how I feel after my comeuppance.

When did he get so big and brave? When did I get so brave? That climbing thing has always struck me as akin to the island from Lord of the Flies, but with more chance for head trauma.

And seriously!?!? How big is she!?!? PS, she totally fought her bro for the seat and won. Is it weird that I love their emerging sibling rivalry because it means he’s seeing her as a person not a boob appendage (though she’s still that, too)?

Apologies for weird formatting on this post; I’m posting from my phone because that’s where the photos are and I’m lazy.

Sweet, sweet ballerinas!


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