I must say, Internets, summertime is a horrible time for blogging. I will not apologize for my delinquency, however, because I know this to be the very height of rudeness: I read in an etiquette book once that one must never apologize for not responding earlier to a letter, as this implies that one is somehow obligated to respond and is not doing so out of the goodness and/or desire of one’s heart.
And I do recognize the merit of this mandate, as it did not come out of the same etiquette book that suggested that when I am out with a gentleman and said gentleman does not hasten to open my car door of his own volition, I should pretend that I don’t know how to operate the handle.
So here’s what I’ve been up to for the past four days:
Jaden, his brother, Tommy, and his parents, Nalani and Chad, stayed with us from Wednesday through Saturday, and we’ve spent the rest of the weekend recuperating. For our last picture together, normally sweet and adorable, Jaden-turned-demon-baby grabbed two giant handfuls of my hair. I thought I was safe, as my hair is approximately two feet shorter than his mom’s, but I was wrong.
We had so much fun with them, everyone but Simon, who spent the entire time under our bed, and Spencer, who was more tolerant but hissed at Tommy for the first time in his nine lives when he tired of Tommy’s incessant and maniacal shaking of bell-containing cat toys near his personal head. I found out that I do have a use for children too young to verbally communicate after all, and Tommy found out that he loves Fake Uncle Stephan. Most of our daily activities were a bit juvenile for my taste, but I guess that’s what happens when a two-year-old is running the show.
Tommy in the dig pit at the Portland Children’s Museum:
I wasn’t present when this picture was taken, but I did hear a rumor about somebody’s diaper being full of tiny and mysterious rubber pieces of unknown origin. The secret is out.
