When we pray before dinner, we close by thanking "the Fadder, Swon, and Howy Spit."
Dinner is best accompanied by "pwo-no" music such as "woa woa boat" which is sung in "wownds."
Tom likes "penny pata" with alfredo sauce and "bwoccoli." He also likes "zoo-kee-nee quash!"
He loves "huggins" but will not say "I wuv you" unless prompted, one syllable at a time.
He's such a boy.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
FIve
Five years ago, I woke up in an unfamiliar hotel room, no longer a bride. We lounged in bed a good part of the morning, doing what all newlyweds should be doing ... ordering room service.
Our pancakes and eggs cost $57. It was thrilling.
We spent the day at the resort napping, eating at the outdoor cafe and strolling along the edge of the golf course, until we got kicked off by management for not having any clubs.
The next day we boarded a plane bound for the Caribbean, and spent a week in lovely, secluded Grenada, lounging on the beach and exploring rain forests.
I blindly followed my brand-spanking-new husband when he jumped into a red van with four big, dark-skinned native men in it as we were walking to the beach. I watched the beach go right by, and still we drove on. I was sure we would end up dead on the mountain somewhere, but we ended up in the capital city at the end of the long queue of minivans that is considered the bus system on the island.
I learned that to get off a bus in Grenada, you tap on the ceiling and driver stops. Wherever. Even in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
It was before we had a digital camera, and we have not one picture of the two of us together on our honeymoon. I was stupidly, stupidly stingy with film.
My mom asked me if five years ago I could have imagined my life today.
Today I spent the day changing diapers and feeding babies - first the one who can now talk back and tell me precisely what he does and does not like - and second, the one who leave big puddles of milk where ever he goes.
But then SuperHubby made it home from work, bearing these:
And the first thing he did was scoop his sons up in his arms and tell them how much he loves them and how much he missed them during the day. And I can't imagine a better anniversary gift than that.
Our pancakes and eggs cost $57. It was thrilling.
We spent the day at the resort napping, eating at the outdoor cafe and strolling along the edge of the golf course, until we got kicked off by management for not having any clubs.
The next day we boarded a plane bound for the Caribbean, and spent a week in lovely, secluded Grenada, lounging on the beach and exploring rain forests.
I blindly followed my brand-spanking-new husband when he jumped into a red van with four big, dark-skinned native men in it as we were walking to the beach. I watched the beach go right by, and still we drove on. I was sure we would end up dead on the mountain somewhere, but we ended up in the capital city at the end of the long queue of minivans that is considered the bus system on the island.
I learned that to get off a bus in Grenada, you tap on the ceiling and driver stops. Wherever. Even in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
It was before we had a digital camera, and we have not one picture of the two of us together on our honeymoon. I was stupidly, stupidly stingy with film.
My mom asked me if five years ago I could have imagined my life today.
Today I spent the day changing diapers and feeding babies - first the one who can now talk back and tell me precisely what he does and does not like - and second, the one who leave big puddles of milk where ever he goes.
But then SuperHubby made it home from work, bearing these:
And the first thing he did was scoop his sons up in his arms and tell them how much he loves them and how much he missed them during the day. And I can't imagine a better anniversary gift than that.
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