Whoa. What gives, LOD? I had just gotten used to reading one or two posts per week, at best. Why are you roiling the still waters of my reality and posting twice in two days? And why are you wasting valuable blog real estate by putting words in my mouth?
The truth is, there have been developments. As there often are. Especially among parents, who are in a constant state of flux and know better than to embrace even the slightest whiff of complacency. Because whenever you do some new thing flashes at you from some as-yet-unheard-of direction.
First, drop-offs have been better, and Robert actually has good things to say about his day when I get home. And not in a way that suggests his spirit is broken and he drifts through the halls like a lobotomized McMurphy. His voice has an actual lilt, which wafts liltingly off his tongue. Hopefully, this will forestall my wife's nefarious plans of teachercide.
Speaking of lobotomies, the boys and I were wrestling yesterday when Robert rolled over my face and scratched the sharp edge of my coke-bottle eyeglass lens over my forehead. So now I look like a surgeon came at me with a scalpel and Eased My Pain. I did feel pain when it happened, but I had no idea how grisly it looked until I saw myself in the mirror when I got home. So I walked three crosstown blocks with this bloody, two-inch gash in my head, and none of the dozens of passersby said a thing. Or even looked at me funny. Ah, New York. Promise me you'll never change.
But the big news is ... big. Big! Bigger than the father of the biggest blue whale in the world!
When I walked out of the apartment last night, I found flowers and a bag of Belgian chocolates taped to our door. With it was a note:
"Thank you so much for your help with making the hours before 9am less noisy! We greatly appreciate it!"
Can you believe it? Weirdly and Creepella are satiated!
Naturally, I was floored. It felt like I'd capped Krakatoa.
Granted, the flowers were a pair of wilted hydrangeas that will be dead by sundown. And the chocolates 1) had melted and re-solidified and 2) tasted stale enough to have been re-gifted from one of those Christmas sampler baskets that clients exchange. But it was the thought that counted, big time.
So there is good news, which is good. Because the weather is coldening, and Daylight Saving Time will end next month, and soon the boys, who are bigger than they were last winter, will be trapped in the house for hours at a stretch. And the lava beneath Krakatoa will be re-unleashed.