Saturday, June 13, 2009

The cute might kill me.

Seriously. It might.

Van's hips are fine. He has also gained almost 3 and a half pounds, and has grown over 2 inches. I don't know how to dress a child that has no visible bones.

At his one month appointment, our pediatrician made the comment that he was very glad that we were finally talking about normal baby problems like colic. Now, I adore our pediatrician. At our very first appointment, when Scarlett was 5 days old, he quoted Frank Deford to me. FRANK DEFORD. And it wasn't even Wednesday!

But when he said he was glad to be talking about colic, it was all I could do to keep from offering to continue the conversation at 1am. Because I'd be up. Swaddling and shushing, and wondering if crate training would work as well as it did with Alice.

Oh, I jest. We wouldn't put Van in a crate. It's not soundproof.

"Can I ask a question? When did I get to be 39?"

"The better question is when did I get to be old enough to be married to someone who is 39?"

Happy Birthday, hubby mine. Do you want me to make you some chocolate cupcakes? I owe you after you sat through 2 hours of Garrison Keillor.

Of course, the Stanley Cup finals were on this week, so we could probably call it even.

Although I might still make you cupcakes. I'm pretty sure we'd find a few takers in this house.