Man, it's only Tuesday and I'm wasted. I mean, look at the time! At work, I am frantically busy putting together a big proposal to the Department of Justice, and deepening my respect for the satanically complex ways and means of the federal government. All I have to say on that topic is SF424.
In contrast, things are more or less delightful at home. Genevieve had a (retrospectively) hilarious dinner tonight, which started with her eagerly opening her little pink mouth to devour spoonfuls of rice cereal and carrots and ended abruptly about five minutes later when she spat out a whole mouthful of cereal and then started wiggling and screaming in her high chair. Message received! The baby is full! Get her out of the high chair!
Julia cracked me up today with her over-the-top way of protesting various crimes and misdemeanors. Case in point: at bedtime, she said queryingly, "We can read two books tonight, Daddy." We had some time to kill, so I said, "We can read two books, for sure." Her little ash-blond head whipped around, already frowning. Leaning way back from the waist so her tummy stuck out, she tucked her chin into her chest and said, "I'm not Roger Rhino!" I was confused, but caught on. "Honey, I said, 'for sure,' not 'Roger Rhino.'" Tired toddlers are as hard of hearing as tired parents with mild-to-moderate deafness. That's my empirical finding for the day.