(no subject)

Yesterday was kind of fun and novel getting up at 5 a. m. to watch a baseball game.  Today is just painful.

(no subject)

Standing outside, the sun finally beginning to feel warm on my back, piles of snow are melting, leaving mud from newly thawed earth and pools and puddles and streams which run to the street.  As I stand with my back to the sun, I watch Éiden as he stands in a patch of mud, boots lifting up and  down to make sure they are thoroughly covered.  He then walks on his heels, careful not to lose any of that fresh mud from the soles of his boots, to a puddle.  He steps into it, splashing and rinsing the mud from his boots only to go back to the mud patch and start again.  "This is a good game," he tells me.  Yes, I think.  It is.

A variation on "Pull My Finger"

Overheard from the other room just before bath time:

Éiden:  Here, Arie, smell my finger!

Haddayr:  Oh  god, Éiden, don't put your finger in there!  **breaks down, unable to speak because  of laughter**  No, Éiden, stop that.  It's very unhygienic.