Happy new year to everyone!
Last night, the Ex took the Boy to the local First Night festival, and my mom, the Girl, and I stayed home and did our Own Thing, which as it turns out was making pizza and falling asleep reading stories in the big bed at about 8:30. At dinner, I had a little vodka and o.j. and got all sentimental. Staring across the table at the Girl, who was singing herself a little song (something she likes to do, oh, ALL THE TIME), I sighed and said, "Gigi, my lovie, what do you love most in all the world?" And she looked back at me with those big blue-green eyes, blinked those massive lashes, and said, in all seriousness, "Poopie."
What can I say? The other day, while she was sitting on her little potty, she yanked off her sweatpants, put them on her head (she looked oddly like the Duchess from Alice in Wonderland), and told me, "Hello! I am Mr. Pothead. Would you like to shake hands with me?" Um, no thanks, I'll have to pass this time.
The Boy called at midnight on their way home from the fireworks. "I fell asleep on my Papa," he mumbled, "but then I woke up for the fireworks, and they were soooo beautiful! They were red, and green, and blue, and yellow..." "That is so cool, bud," I whispered into the phone. "I'm glad you had fun." "I did, Mama. And Mama? Happy Christmas."