Poop!, Coq au Vin, and . . . .

Just now I am sitting here, blogging, while the kids play in the background. I hear Vivian crawling* in, and when she gets to me, she pulls up and says, "Poop. Poop." I soon ascertain from a dense aroma that she has, in fact, pooped.

That's right. My 16 month old daughter came to tell me she pooped. Are you amazed? Astounded? Knocked off your feet by the sheer genius of it all? No? Then perhaps you do not also have in your life a 32 month old child who routinely walks around with his pants full of shit for as long as the rest of us can stand. Who continues, to this day, to deny when said pants are full of shit, even when the cloud of stench through which he is walking causes the wallpaper to curl (and we don't have wallpaper). Or instead, blames his sister: "Vivi did it! Vivi pooped!" Who wakes up at least once a week before 5am, having peed through his overnight diaper, and who has never, in his life, woken up from a nap with a dry diaper.

*still her preferred method of mobility, though she can walk.


Last night for dinner I made this. It took FOREVER, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed my time in the kitchen, even though it took up the entire nap time so I didn't get a break. What I did mind: it didn't turn out. I spent 2 hours in the kitchen slaving over something that only tastes okay. And I followed the recipe pretty exactly, too. What is wrong with me??

I also made this, which was impossibly easy and took about 5 minutes, minus the roasting time. Guess what? It was fabulous. But see, I didn't enjoy making that as much--it was so simple! Again, I ask you--what is wrong with me?


Finally:
Today when I dropped Isaac off at school, there was the following note:
"Attention parents: Yesterday we had to send a student home with head lice. We have not had an incident of head lice at (name of school) for 10 years. Please check your child's head carefully."

Ahhhhhhhhh!