Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Dad, aren't you forgetting something?
A small boy had appeared beside the bed this morning as I was putting on my shoes and loading my pockets with man junk.
"Hey, buddy. Uhhhhm, I love you?"
"Have you brushed your hair?"
"Yes, but that's not what you're supposed to say."
"Hmmm. Well, you do look very different today--could that be because...it's your...DAY TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH?!"
"Not it, huh? Well, then, maybe it's your BIRTHDAY!"
And much singing ensued.
Yep--Little Boy is now a whole decade old. We went downstairs and lined him up against the doorframe of the utility room to mark his vertical progress--he was very relieved to see that he was just as tall as Rebecca was at ten. He had been lagging behind her a bit, and it was bugging him. But he's caught up now, and he felt better. I noticed we had forgotten to mark Catherine's name when she turned 7 back in February, so I got her up against the door and -- holy moley -- she's as tall as Ashley was at 10! (Ashley was always very small until she hit puberty, then she shot up.) And she has grown a full six inches since her sixth birthday.
Despite the fact that it has become nearly impossible to hold any of them in my lap, that hasn't damped their desire (or at least that of the younger three) to try to clamber up on me and snuggle. Or suffocate me. But who could complain?
As for Jonathan's festivities, we got him a Dragon Ball Z decorated cake--if you don't understand the allure, don't try. I gave up a long time ago. He also has a tournament game tonight, so he's going to have to wait until later after the game to have some of it, but I don't think he'll mind. And, poor thing, we still have to go shopping for his presents--one of the by-products of having to spend perfectly good shopping time schlepping him around town for soccer, but he's a good sport about it. The way it works out, our neglectfulness in party planning means the celebration drags on for days in bits and spurts, rather than just blowing itself out in a mad couple of hours. And he seems to kinda like that.
Anyway, Happy Birthday, Buddy Bear.
And now, I have a boatload of work to get done and little time to do it in. Posting will once again be on the lightish side today because of that.
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