Random notes from paradise

I had a dream that Sam met President Bush. Good ol' Dubyah just happened to be walking along as I pushed Sam in his stroller. President Bush got this goofy look on his face. Oh, wait. It might've been there before. Even the President was unable to resist Sam's charm. He cooed at him as Sam cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes clouding over as they narrowed and then, my normally cheerful baby started wailing.

Man. My little guy is so smart.

In other news ... why.the.hell. can't I get anything done start to finish? In the spirit of full disclosure, the blame can not be placed solely at Baby Chi Chi's feet. It was a problem before. It's just much worse now. Much, much worse. Today I will attempt to excavate Mt. Laundry.

Babe? What have you done with all of my white shirts? Matt asked the other day as he realized he was down to wearing his Mopar tank top under his workshirt.

Uhm. Nothing. Well, I moved them to the laundry room and there they sit. Rotting. Probably we should just buy some new ones. I, the antithesis of June Cleaver, replied. 

Don't worry about finding them on sale this time. He said, laughing.

Did I tell you guys about that? Since Sam has been sucking the smart right out of me I have done some pretty odd, slightly ridiculous things. Twice I bought Matt some white shirts that were on mega-sale. I put them in his clean shirts pile both times without noticing they were made for boys who still believed in the tooth fairy.

Comments

[mel]

Love it! I can picture Matt trying on the shirts! I can't tell you how many time this happens at our house too- Chris will end up wearing a crazy shirt as an undershirt!