Super/bad

Luke is currently bapping me with his "bad" hand and preparing to have his "good" hand, aka the "police" hand, step in and mediate the situation. Lucky for him he has an alternate identity to manage/blame for almost every situation: There's Pontrow, the genial visitor, Rico Ratchet, the mischievous troublemaker, Baby Cat, who likes to snuggle and get food spoon-fed to him, and of course the bad hand/good hand duo. The other morning, after Luke had woken up in the middle of the night, I asked him why he got me up.
"Oh, it wasn't me," he said.
"Well then who woke me up? Pontrow? Rico Ratchet?"
He pondered this a moment, then said, "No, it was just some air." Ah. OK. Remind me no to be disturbed by any bad air tonight.

It was a great birthday weekend, really. Nice massage on Saturday, amazing restaurant dinner on Saturday night with both kids in tow (!!) (Luke was on his best behavior and Zach slept through the whole thing), fantastic lunch "date" with just Dave on Sunday...But then how prophetic was the Zachary Enzo blog that I just wrote about not taking anything for granted? After our "date" lunch Dave and I were in the theater, just 15 minutes into "Superbad" when we got the phone call every parent dreads from babysitters Suzi and Boom-boom: "Don't want to alarm you, but you really need to come home right now..."

Turns out Luke decided that a very tiny Lego part would be much better suited inside his nostril than on the racecar he was building. Next thing you know, it got stuck, and we had to come home, and Dave had to take him to the ER, and there was a very long fine surgical tweezer involved, and blah blah blah. Fortunately there were no tears shed and no lasting damage, but the irony of it being six months to the day from when I went to the hospital was not lost on me. Now I wonder, was it Rico Ratchet who put it up there? Or did it just go up there because of the "air"?

Zach and Luke both crashed early tonight after a long day at the beach. (That's me in the background, holding a very contented Zach as he watches the waves.) In Luke's case, he wore himself out running around and arguing with his buddies; Zach must have simply worn himself out with his non-stop babbling and cooing. He's getting a little frustrated because he obviously wants to roll himself over but he just can't seem to move his big hulking body around too well. I wonder if that is how talking is for an infant - he must have so much to say but he just can't get the words out. Whatever he has to say, I hope he says it soon - I'm looking forward to bringing a new personality into the mix.