I've got a moment before I have to run up to The Hill to work to get a few housekeeping issues dealt with.
I know that our legion of readers out there in blogsylvania is all sideways about the glamorous life we lead as parents and adoptive parents. "Gosh golly" you sigh, "...just think; waking up every morning to a likely lad and a adorable moppet just bursting with love and cuteness. Ah, quelle the life!" (At least, I assume you talk this way. No? Hmmm...)
And, yes, it is Utopia, Limited here at the Fire Direction Center. But be warned - I try and spare you the uglier details, like the stuff that happens when both kidlets are sick. Like my proto-blogging pal Willie the Shake, I believe in keeping the really nasty business offstage. Let's just say that a sick toddler with a full diaper at 3am can test the strongest of wills and leave it at that.
Speaking of feeling yucky, Millicent and Thor (and Floyd, too, I think) are down with the same creeping crud we have. Drop by and give them some cyberlove or digital sympathy, hey? This cold is truly shitty. If you have it, my condolences. If not - don't get it! Mojo's co-workers literally won't enter her office to keep away from the cold-leper. They stand in the doorway and shout across the room.
What is it about the Peeper and Kellies? The Peep is so over his pash on Kelli of Waiting for Sprout (a big relief for her) but his current inamorata is Teacher Kelly (or Kelli, not sure...) at his daycare. He is SO jazzed about her coming to sit with him this weekend it's painful - he's already made her a picture and was insistant we make her "something pretty". So we had to go look for some faux jewelry for her. But when, during the process, it came down to a gift for Kelly versus a toy for Peeper...the toy came home with us. He may be in love but he's still four and four is fundamentally all about the greed.
Gotta run. I'm thinking about the political process we're seeing (or suffering might be a better word) and I want to talk more about that in the next week.