'Ot. Paaah.

It seems like the only exciting things that happen around here involve minor injuries.

Start with yesterday morning: the boys and I were on our way downstairs for breakfast. Drew had made it down two or three steps, so he had about 10 to go. Our cat decided it would be fun to attack Drew's head (which Drew usually finds funny), catching him off guard, throwing off his balance, and sending him rolling down the remainder of the stairs. I wasn't able to get between him and the bottom, so I just had to chase him down and scoop him up when he stopped rolling. He was pretty shaken up (literally), but not actually hurt.

Our afternoon went pretty well, as did most of the evening. We were sitting in the play room reading books, when suddenly my newly enhanced sense of smell* kicked in. Is someone baking a doll? I looked around, and there was our laundry basket, pushed up against the baseboard heater, slowly melting away. So I moved it, glad that I had caught it before it started some kind of fire. I went back to reading with Drew, when Owen started crying. I looked at him, and there he was by that nasty heater, holding his little fingers and saying, "'Ot." (He doesn't do the letter 'h' I guess.) So I picked him up and gave his fingers a little kiss and he blew on them, paaah, paaah, and he was fine.

Now that I think about it, there's more exciting stuff going on than injuries (well, it's exciting for me...'cause I'm the mom...). Last Saturday, David and I left the boys at Grandpa's and went to Salt Lake to watch the Celtics lose to the Jazz (we didn't expect them to win, but we hoped...).

The boys had a lot of fun at their grandpa's. The first thing Owen did when he got there was grab the Christmas tin which held some popcorn. The tin is almost as big as he is, but he hauled it across the room and put it at Grandpa's feet. Then he waited. Grandpa didn't do anything, so Owen hefted the tin up onto Grandpa's lap and yelled, "More!" Who could ignore that? Grandpa obligingly opened the tin so Owen and Drew could dig in.

At dinner time, the boys got pizza, cut into bite size pieces. I guess they just had the pieces on napkins, but that was too uncivilized for Drew. He grabbed a little toy plate, the kind that comes with a kid's tea set, piled all his pizza onto it, and ate off of that.

It's just fun to watch the little things that they learn; things that I've been doing for a quarter of a century, but are so new to them. Fun, fun.

*more on this in a future post; today's is too long already.