Have I mentioned that you drool a lot? Let me mention it now. You drool ALL THE TIME. On good days, I remember to put a bib around your lovely neck to soak up the excess saliva. On bad days, the front of your shirt is soaked from neck to belly button.
Today you are wearing a button down Hawaiian print shirt over some green overalls. We spent some time on the living room rug, working on the whole rolling over thing. I mostly do it for you, though every once in awhile, you shove yourself from tummy to back, all on your own, and then look up at me, a bit startled, with more drool running down your chin.
Anyway, when you were on your tummy today, propped on your Hawaiian print forearms, you had a lot to say, and all of it very gutteral. It was very odd, as though Barry White had taken over your body and was doing some intense "bearing down" (if you know what I mean). I don't know why this position in particular lowers the register of your voice so dramatically, but I find it vaguely fascinating.
Is this your "in bed" voice? Do you feel, on your belly, closer to your masculine side? Shall I call you my little Drag King? Or does the effort of keeping your chin from stabbing a hole in the carpet require a more intense level of concentration and thus the grunts of a tennis star?
Daddy is singing "Wade in the Water" and "Pooping Machine" while he changes you upstairs. I am drinking merlot and surfing the internet for the perfect pair of slip-on ankle-high snow clogs. Out east, a blizzard has wrapped her furry white arms around Virginia and Maryland and Pennsylvania. For dinner we ate BBQ chicken (frozen since June), peas and broccoli, and garlic mashed potatoes from a box. We leave for Maryland in two days so we are making use of what is left in the cabinets and cupboards. I am anxious about the trip. But more about that later...
It was a lovely Sunday.
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