The next chapter

I have found a fragile peace here in the desert heat. At nighttime it is more than 100 degrees and yet Dave and I come out here to sit, talk, find comfort in the quiet stillness. We are on a large, leafy estate, surrounded by palm trees and lush bougainvillea. There are just a few lights in the pool that reflect upward and make the greenery look like it is shimmering. The moon is sitting just above the mountain to the west of us and there are stars in every direction. It's hot but there's no humidity so the heat is healing, not oppressive. We've been coming out here after Luke goes to sleep, just to look out into the sky and talk about what's ahead - for the next hour, week, thirty years. Last night we stopped our whispering when we heard a rustling in the trees. A large white owl swooped overhead, then came to rest on a tree nearby.

There's nothing more to say about me other than that I feel scooped out and raw, and I don't know what's going to come next. I'm sad and confused, and extremely disappointed to be barred from the pool (the worst is having to listen to Luke saying, "Mommy, I want to swim with you!") But the truth is, while I thought that being out in the desert might be a bad idea, in some ways it's been a relief. We are in a beautiful fantasy home and Luke has been thrilled beyond belief with the pool and all of the activities. The fact that it topped 112 degrees today and I couldn't swim was completely beside the point. I decided that I've been looking forward to this trip for so long that I wanted to give myself permission to enjoy it - and I have.

We capped off our day today with a dinner out at a Japanese steakhouse - the kind where they do the cooking at your table. We had given Luke a clue about what was ahead: Just before he went down for his nap, we told him that we were going to eat at a table where we could watch a man chopping the food and flipping it. He said, "My so excited I want to jump out of bed!" At dinner, when the chef chopped the shrimp and tossed a piece into Tony's mouth, it completely rocked Luke's world. For the last several hours he's been carefully re-enacting the scenario and quizzing us about the details.

It's been a year since I started writing this blog and it's odd to look back and remember that one year ago, we decided that we were ready to start trying for #2. Looks like we didn't get too far in a year's time. But that's just one yardstick to measure by; we've had a year's worth of total delight with Luke and plenty of blog-worthy material. Mid-year, in fact, I had decided that if there were a purpose to this blog, it would be to keep a journal or a record for Luke. But of course it's been about me and my own motivations as well. I guess if I'm writing this at all, even if it's for Luke, I need to be honest about what's going on with me and make that a part of it. So that's why, even though it doesn't really mesh that well with all of the funny stories and joyous memories I have from this trip, I have to bring up this sad chapter and think about how I want to start the next one.

As I sit outside in the dark heat, with the pool lights glowing in the background, it is completely silent except for the hot breezes that are blowing in the trees, around my face, and on my feet. It seems like what I've written has made sense, but I'm not sure how well it will hold up in the light of day. No matter; I'm going to go and find Dave now, so we can stay cocooned in this little dream for just a while longer.

surprising changes

Lots to catch up on...If I were really organized, there'd be a picture for each update. But what can you do.

Luke has some new things that are either cracking me up or disturbing me - I haven't quite decided. For one thing, he has designated one little stuffed dog as his "baby" that he insists on wearing stuffed down the front of his shirt. And he walks around telling us that the "baby" wants to eat beef. Or money milk. Hmmmm...

He also informed us that he needs a slide guitar. (A little too much time spent watching bluegrass, no doubt). But still, hmmmmm...

Three times a week or so he asks where his drum set went. "We had to return it to the store because it was broken," I tell him. "Who broke it?" is always his next question. Well, it was flimsy, and Luke broke various parts through wear and tear, but there was one part that Eitan broke. "Eitan broke it!" is always how the conversation ends. I was starting to get worried because the other day when they saw each other at story hour, the first thing Luke said to Eitan was, "You broke my drum set!"

So finally we got him a new, hopefully sturdier drum set. He was all excited, sat on the stool, drum sticks poised expectantly in the air, and before he played a single note, he stopped to ask, "Who broke my other drum set?"

And then there was the party. Hooray for the baseball party. I have tons of good pics but only one available at my fingertips at the moment right here:



Lots of baseball-themed fun - Baseball, baseball cupcakes, pennant artwork, hot dogs, etc. Luke and Hatcher were perfectly matched in their 2.5 shirts. Luke was clingy for the first half-hour, but three hours into the party he was running around like a crazy-happy person, singing the alphabet song at the top of his lungs.

We got home, exhausted, and decided to open just one present (presents given to us against our "no-gifts-please" instructions, by the way). The present was from Eitan and the beauty of it was that it could be used right away - a set of floating drums for the bathtub. Luke loves it, and we're just grateful we don't live in an apartment building on account of the noise. Let's hope that is the last chapter in the great "You Broke My Drum Set" wars of 2006.

The sad little postscript is that the little raspberry and I are still fighting the good fight, but it is not looking good at the moment. I'll spare this blog from the roller coaster but suffice to say we are hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

What are you yaffing at?

What are you yaffing at? Luke's now in a fabulous stage where everything is just plain funny. Making up nonsense rhymes with songs he already knows is funny. The dog that says "foo" in the comics is funny. Other Luke, who calls all farm animals a helicopter, is funny. Uncle Joe, who says "Pee-yew" is funny. "Poopdeck" is funny. "Did you ever see Nut/Scratching his butt" (sung to the tune of "Down by the Bay") is funny (and something tells me I'm going to regret making up that one).

Point is, he seems to have a whole new joy and appreciation for things, whether it be bouncing a ball off his head, or playing guitar naked after a bath. I'm going to attribute it at least in part to school, where the kids crack each other up all day long.

Yes, we're still dealing with a sudden pig-headedness that manifests itself as a refusal to eat all previously loved foods. But he can be tricked into changing his mind. Last night, Dave made hamburgers rolled into little cigar shapes and Luke happily glommed down two "hot dogs." Oh, and he'll occasionally go back to rice and beans, as long as he wants to and not because you tell him to.

One of the things that Luke is most joyful about these days is the fact that he has a party coming up in only five days (at last count). He can barely contain himself with glee when he talks about eating cupcakes, and playing baseball, and eating more cupcakes. If this is how it's gonna be, I'm signing up for more.

shaken, not stirred

We are in the midst of celebrating Father's Day, which began with Luke's outstanding new recipe for sesame seed pancakes and culminated in a loud hot morning on the beach at the drum circle. Now we're all collecting our respective thoughts by sleeping (Luke), grocery shopping (Dave) and lazing around on the computer (me). What a difference three days can make. I was sad then and I'm happy now, but everything is just a little more guarded, even more so than before. There was no point of elation for me when we got the good news, just total and utter shock because I had believed for more than a week that the situation was hopeless. I guess one possible reaction would have been cheering from the rooftops. But I can't take any more of the roller coaster. For the moment, I have a different feeling than I've had before - I've lost the worry about how we would manage with another kid, and I've gained kind of a warm fuzzy googly feeling when I think about Luke plus another Luke-ette running around.

I'm still not counting any chickens. Still, when you think about it, there are currently four hearts beating in this house. We're going to do whatever we can to keep it that way.

words

The other night when the family was all here eating dinner, Luke excused himself and went off to play by himself. I guess he wanted to make sure he wasn't forgotten because he decided that the best way to amuse himself would be to sing the alphabet song, repeatedly, at the top of his lungs. It was funny, but more importantly , it was hard to ignore.

Seems like we don't know exactly what's going to be coming out of his mouth these days. Like this morning when he told me that he was off to the store to buy "beer and juice and bubble water." Anyone unsure which beverage-oriented parent he is taking after? When Dave complained the other night about Luke needing a separate utensil for each food item, Dave's parents wondered aloud where *that* particular trait could have come from. "It's all in the genes," said Bobbie. And then without missing a beat, Luke agreed, "It's all in the genes!"

For all of his conversation and mimicry, I'm still totally amused by the words he can't quite get right, especially those that involve "r" "l" and/or "g." But if I generalize, and say he still can't say the "g," I remember that he's been asking for "go-gos" (goldfish) since practically day one. Or sometimes I think that he has trouble with the "v" sound, but in reality he just uses it in the wrong way for violin: "bah-vah-in"

A quick guide for those still confused:

tah-TAH = guitar
a-yeh-tah-tah-tah = electric guitar (very important distinction, by the way)
dah-dah = gorilla
soo-doo = cereal
nuh-donna = iguana
beh-uh-ee = Miss Beverly
wee-budduh = wheelbarrow
teem-wudduh = steamroller

We went to a fun graduation party yesterday for Luke and all of his pals as they move on from Mommy and Me into various big-kid activities like preschool. Luke was the only kid who refused to sit for the class picture so I have some cute pics of the class sans Luke, maybe for later posting.

I'm not denying that I'm sad right now. In fact, I'm fumbling my way through a fog of sad. But what I have right now to get me through is an otherwise happy life, filled with the soundtrack of the alphabet song and the strummings of an a-yeh-tah-tah-tah.

Whatever happened to...?

Lots going on right now with everyone but let's just focus on Luke for a moment. Dave tried to talk to him in Spanish the other day and Luke cut in without a moment's hesitation. "Stop, Daddy. I don't like Spanish." Sunday we took him to the Cuban restaurant and he announced that he would eat rice but not beans. Whah? Today I took him to the farmers' market and went through a comical routine of buying just about every lunch option for him (pupusas? guacamole? tamales?) until he finally accepted a hot dog. Lest it start to sound like he's just rejecting Hispanic culture, he's also turned up his nose at such previous favorites as chicken, red peppers, noodles, and mushrooms. My heart used to swell with pride when he would beg for vegetables. I think now we're going to have to hope that bland starch items, fruit, and nitrate- (or is it nitrite-, I never can tell) loaded meat products will fulfill his nutritional needs. But I mean, how predictably toddlerish can you get?

What's Seattle do-ning?

Just a few pics to hold us until I can get my mind and act together...

Deep in girl world

There's much too much going on to spend lots of time on the computer, but I can't go a *week* without blogging, can I? We are in Seattle, deeply entrenched in girl world. There are dolls and princess hats and dress-ups and things that Luke just can't really get his mind around (I had to tell Antonia, "He doesn't really like changing clothes once he's put something on for the day.") But in the end they have a lot more in common that you'd think. After all, who wouldn't want to run around a park like a crazy person, picking up sticks and pinecones? Or chase after the ice-cream truck? Or look at a massive room-sized aquarium full of fish?

Luke had some confusion at first, thinking that Aunt Julie was "Ant-onia" and Antonia was "sister" (as Helena calls her). But they've worked it out amongst themselves. Luke and Antonia were fast friends from the beginning, and Helena and Luke are now more likely to hug than slug.

Antonia is extremely sad to learn that we're leaving tomorrow already, and Helena's persistent comment is a plaintive "Why?"

Pictures to come soon...

All creatures great and small

So the great Fratello Four-Day Weekend is still in full swing and we've done so much I can barely even remember the beginning. A haircut for Luke...a day in Topanga...a day at the aquarium...and we still haven't made it to the beach yet. That'll be tomorrow. For now, we're basically trying to keep things interesting while we manage this new-found habit of throwing a tantrum over the smallest thing (Where's my balloon? I want a cupcake! I don't want to get dressed! etc.). It's balanced out by an even richer sense of humor, especially while reading the food book (tell him there's a picture of spapple and aghetti instead of apple and spaghetti and he's completely gone). Things tend to balance out on the positive side, at least for now. Now it's time for some much-needed rest.

who puts you to school

The first night after I wrote the sleep blog, Dave helped Luke with the whole jamas-on-and-teethbrushing routine, but then Luke came looking for me, grabbed my hand, and led me into his room. When we got there, Dave was sitting at the foot of the bed, in the book-reading "put you to bed" spot.

"Oh, NO!" said Luke. "Who's sitting there?"

Poor Dave. He just does not get enough credit. Let's give him a round of applause for elevating the school drop-off to a fine art. As in, maybe I can take Luke to school without a tear now, but no one does it like Dave does. I'm going to take the liberty here of sharing his daily morning update from today:

Well, when Postman Pat was over, Luke jumped out of my lap, said, "T'mon, Daddy, go to school!" And I said let's look at the lunchbag, and he said, "Maybe some blueberries!" And there were, and he was pleased, then said, "Get the Cold One." So we did, and we went to the door and he said, "Let's see Miss Beverly." Of course we did that too.

I gathered an all-boy crowd again for book-reading, 4 of them, until Roxanna came over and boldly handed me a book about manners featuring a monkey. I deferred to her and read that after we finished book one. Meanwhile, Kadin left during the monkey book to bring back a gigantic book (seriously, like 3 ft by 3 ft) about a mouse that eats a strawberry while fearful that a big bear is going to come get the strawberry. Actually it was cooler than that sounds maybe.

While I was reading the strawberry book (which Kadin called "the scary, scary book" and "monster book" because of the looming bear - who never actually appears), Luke and Roxanna took over naming most things on the pages. Luke asked me what the words said frequently.

When we finished that book Luke rolled around in my lap, put his face up to mine and said, "Let's see Miss Beverly." I said "great" and we went over there. He said he wanted Papa-Damma, but he brightened when she told him that today they're going to do something messy with shaving cream outside. But first they're going to pull out instruments. OK! he said. And off I went.

No question, he's the most famous guy at school. And he writes me a complete update every day. How can you not love a dad like that?

Who puts you to bed

No need to remind anyone that sleep is somewhat of an obsession in our house; aside from me and Dave, now there's Luke. Every night, sometime between dinner and teeth-brushing, comes his inevitable question: "Who puts you to bed?" as in, 'Who's putting me to bed?'

In the past there wasn't much of a question or an issue:

Ages birth-3 weeks: Sleep?
3 weeks-5 months: Nursed to sleep by mom, then swaddled and rocked by dad
5 months-18 months: Nursed to sleep; occasional rocking to sleep with bottle from dad
18 months-19 months: Rocked to sleep by dad after protesting wildly for mom
19 months: Gently (albeit noisily) trained to put himself to sleep by dad
19 months-24 months: Happily accepted being patted and tucked into crib by dad
25 months: Increasingly resisted being put into crib by dad and certainly not by mom. Culminated in one unfortunate night of dad being in Sacramento and mom in tears on the phone at 11 pm with toddler screaming in the background
25 months plus a day after that: Changed over from crib to bed and happily willing to go to sleep again, only this time prefers mom once again. Theories abound, but most likely having to do with the fact that mom curls up in the bed with him and nearly falls asleep in the process.

For a while, when Dave started putting Luke to bed, it was a huge relief to me. I had a whole extra 30 minutes of my day, whittled down by only the amount of time it took to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen. But what Dave wasn't telling me, and what I only gradually learned, was that it is increasingly cool to put Luke to bed, especially now that he talks. Dave wasn't kidding when he said he felt like he had pulled one over on me by taking over the tucking-in role.

Now I "let" Dave put Luke to bed but I am secretly happy when I get a chance to do it. For one thing, it means I don't have to do the dishes. But for another thing, I get to hear the last remaining things that are on his mind from the day. It often comes out after we say our prayers....he'll mention that he wants to give special thanks for Daoud and his drums, or that Michael pushed him at school, or that Teacher Alinda was chewing gum today. For the last few weeks, he'll often curl up and mumble something about wanting his Grandma and Papa, or perhaps tah-sert (dessert).

Last night (continuing this on Monday morning) Dave had to go to Sacramento. Nevertheless, I got the question anyway: "Who puts you to bed?" "Me, of course!" I told him. He mulled this for a moment, then agreed, "Yes, Daddy go downstairs and do dishes."

This morning, given that Dave was not here to do the usual morning drop-off at school, I got another interesting question: "Who puts you to school?" Luke asked. Well, kid, you're stuck with me today.

My school-taking skills are pretty rusty (much like my bed-putting skills once were). I don't have the funny banjo music in my car, I don't know most of the kids, and I don't have the ability to draw a crowd with my book-reading sessions. Yet amazingly, it went by without a tear. Dave's going to be in trouble if I start liking the drop-off too.

The perch

Before we had Luke in our lives, one of my favorite down-time activities was lying draped across our love-seat, reading or sometimes just staring off into space (or sleeping, especially when I was pregnant). Dave called it my "perch." After I had Luke, I never had much perch time and I sort of got out of the habit.

But lo and behold - the perch is back in my life, only now I'm not alone there. Luke has started to enjoy lying back in the perch with me. We pull back all of the curtains so we can look up in the trees and telephone lines and scout for squirrels, or if we're lucky, an adventurous cat. Luke calls it "my nest." For a toddler, he can lie amazingly still just watching and listening to the sound of an occasional airplane (or jackhammer).

This morning we were sitting in the perch, more comfortable than ever, and we were lucky enough to see three squirrels.

"This is nice," I said.
"Nice - Yes!" he agreed.

I knew that we had a concert to go to but I didn't want to interrupt precious perch time. Finally I got up to see what time the concert started so we could get out of the house at a reasonable time - Yikers! - It started 10 minutes ago!

I briefly considered just staying on the perch. But we had friends to meet and In-N-Out Burger to eat. Maybe we'll go back to the perch after naptime.

Table for three

If you have a day that's filled with fun activities that you can check off in your mental scorecard of how you're doing, how does that compare with a day where there's nothing on the books but you still have a good time? Today we did nothing much of anything, but yesterday we did everything...Mother's Day tea at Luke's school, picnic at my office, then Shabbat at Eitan's house with Hatcher and assorted parents. Today - eh? We had big plans to go to the beach but when Luke seemed to be having just as much fun walking around with a hose, we just scaled back on our ambitions. Fine with me; I needed a day like this. Lots of other things to say, probably, but I just want to go to bed and see if I can make it through tomorrow (24 hours) without another load of laundry...

Luke's latest revelation: "I have blond hair!"
Latest skill aquisition: He can sing the alphabet now (but it's probably a good thing he learned "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" first)
Latest bizarre kid activity: Sneaking out of his room when he was supposed to be napping, taking our framed wedding invitation down from the shelf in our bedroom, and curling up with it to go to sleep. Huh?

The mysterious older woman

Yesterday at school Luke was talking somewhat insistently about "Sophie," to the point where Teacher Beverly asked Dave if we knew a Sophie. No, we don't...and yet, Luke kept insisting that Sophie was at school.

So this morning, determined to get to the bottom of it, Dave and Beverly figured out that Sophie is one of the kids in the 3-year-old class. Luke's class doesn't have any regular interaction with the older kids, but the teachers had just opened up the yard so that the kids can see each other through the fence.

The best we can tell is that he met her by talking to her through the fence. (Luke: "What's your name?")...

Take me out to the Dodgers

Just a few quick mementos from the Dodger game last night...Luke entertaining us in the car on the way there while singing "Take me out to the ballgame"....Getting there and meeting Julie and Stu's friend, who told us, "I know you asked for six tickets, but I thought I'd just give you seven so you'd have the whole row".... then seeing that he gave us a whole row *on the field* ten rows back from Larry King, who threw out the first pitch...Watching Luke and Hatcher march around in their gown-length Dodger shirts....Luke with his new mini-bat standing in the aisle and shouting down toward the field, "Throw it to ME!"...Staying until 9 pm without even the slightest meltdown...All in all, a pitch-perfect evening.

Life as a carnival

Is it any wonder that Luke is losing out to his battle with a bad mood, considering the revolving door in our house last week? First there was the thrill of Papa and Bomma, then saying goodbye to Papa, then saying goodbye to Bomma, then saying hi to Bomma again, then saying goodbye. Add the uncertainty of when Suzi and Bill and maybe other Grandma and Grandad are going to be around and you've got one semi-confused kid. (Now he's started saying "Where am I going?" not just when he wakes up in the morning, but after nap as well.)

This morning we went to a big carnival at Luke's school, and that's only half of the activity for the day. We still have yet to go to a baseball game with Hatcher tonight. The carnival was interesting...I guess it would be a little confusing because Mommy and Daddy both came along, and all the usual toys were put away, and there was Miss Beverly dressed like a princess, and Miss Melissa trying to paint faces, and there were all of these cupcakes just sitting around. No wonder Luke had no interest in the big bouncy house. I mean, there were perfectly good cookies just sitting there!

Luke has for some reason convinced himself that when Dave goes to Sacramento he eats donuts, and even more mysteriously, rides a Ferris wheel. If nothing else, I'm glad that that's Luke little fantasy of the world beyond our house. He's upstairs sleeping now, a much-needed break until the next round of sweet food and fun.

the brotherhood of the drum

We just wrapped up the weekend of crazy family fun, tucking an exhausted Luke into bed and preparing to say sad goodbyes to Papa on Tuesday.

I told Dave that having Mom and Dad here makes me feel like I have my two most trusted advisors at my side at all times.

Sadness aside, I have to say we've made the most of the past few days, avoiding the freeways and just heading to the beach at every opportunity. Oh, and the drum circle. That was clearly a highlight for Luke, and the picture is going to make a good album cover one of these years.

So what did we learn:
1) That Luke is willing to walk if the carrying grandpa complains that his back hurts enough;
2) That bird poop is more interesting than diggers, shovels, buckets, actual live birds, bugs, other people, or just about anything else on the beach;
3) That a large group of perfectly mature adults will all willingly hide under pillows and pretend to sleep if so instructed by a 2-year-old;
4) That a flock of birds and ducks will eat honey-roasted peanuts fed to them and not die, or at least not yet;
5) That talking about taking out a splinter is just as bad as the act of taking out the splinter;
6) That Luke can play the piano with his toes ("Ready, toes?)
7) That the issue of what to call the spikes on the back of the pink dinosaur's back is so important that it's worth going upstairs and waking up Dad for;
8) That you don't need to carry your goofy plastic kids' drum to the drum circle because even the hardened pros will soften a little and let your 2-year-old have a go at one of the "big drums;"
9) That nothing gets a kid tuckered out more than a day at the beach, some drumming, a stroll down the crazy Venice Beach promenade, and a visit to the Mexican restaurant where the lady cooks the tortillas; but
10) That the promise of ice cream is always enough to keep even the most tired guy awake for just a few more minutes.

Lucky for us, Mom is in town for a few more days...

a pause in the activity

Luke is sleeping right now, Dad and Dave are shopping, Mom's reading a book, and I'm taking just a few of my available minutes right here to do the blog. I'm nearing (well, sorta nearing) the one-year anniversary of when I started this blog, which calls to mind its original purpose - to record the highlights of our great family vacation. But the flaws in that plan are evident again now, when there's just too much happy fun stuff going on for me to blog. Luke is having a ball with Papa and Bomma (new name, we don't know why, but he thinks it's hilarious). We haven't covered too much territory, just the beach and a museum and a park or two, and this afternoon we're going back to another beach for a drum circle. I could live like this. I mean, I could really, really live like this. Luke is walking around saying "So happy!" Yep.

trapeze act

Luke has started a little trend of asking questions that cannot be answered, as in, we've left the Tot Lot and he'll ask, "Where Tot Lot go?" Well, it's...at the Tot Lot. Or we'll be reading the Passover book that mentions that the haggaddahs are in Hebrew and he'll ask, "What Hebrew do-ning?" Well, it's...not doing anything, especially when I'm the one reading the book. He also has started to ask me, "What's today?" I was starting to feel like "Monday" or "Sunday" were sort of empty responses, so I made a little daily calendar with pictures to show what he does on each day: Saturday/Sunday is family day, Monday/Tuesday/Thursday is Teacher Beverly and school day, and Wednesday/Friday is Mommy/Lukey day. I decided to represent Mommy/Lukey day with a picture of me and Luke when we were opening the ukelele for the first time, but in truth, Mommy/Lukey day is an evolving work-in-progress. Last week Dave was out of town on both of the Mommy/Lukey days, and those mornings were essentially danger mornings (bruises occurring, stomachache-inducing foods being mistakenly eaten, and doors being inadvertently locked). Now how do I illustrate that? I'm thinking a big skull-and-crossbones might do it. ("Caution! Today you will spend time alone with your mother!")

I'm going to take a big risk here that Luke will never talk to me again when he hits age 12 (or whenever you get embarrassed about things) but I thought I'd mention our forays into potty training, such as it is. We've had some friends who started and had to stop when anti-potty rebellion ensued. So we definitely haven't been pushing it. But we've been giving him the opportunity to use the potty every night before he puts on his pj's. On Wednesday, when Dave was gone, he peed in the potty and came out the door triumphantly: "I did it!!!" So we both celebrated, me by cleaning out the little basin, and him by heading purposefully into his closet, closing the door, and pooping on the floor. But as I told Dave, at least...oh, never mind. That's enough on that.

Saturday night Dave and I went out for dinner and a movie - thank heavens for our babysitters Suzi and Boom-Boom. Luke was a little sad when we left, but Suzi knew that, and she made a point of calling us within five minutes of when we left to let us know that he was totally fine and laughing. On Sunday morning Luke was happy as a clam and even told us the whole story about spilling the grape juice down the front of his shirt.

Sunday night we went over to Bruce and Brandi's house for dinner so that Luke and Eitan could run around and bang drums while Dave and Bruce talked home remodeling, and while Brandi and I commiserated about the poor plight of the part-time working mom. After dinner Bruce hung up the trapeze, which seems as if it should have some great metaphoric value for this blog, but it doesn't really. It was just fun and slightly dangerous, and when you sit on it as Luke did, you can see nothing but Pacific ocean behind him. Now *that's* cool.

30 seconds

Why is Luke walking around with a long purple bruise on his face? Not because he is beaten, but, perhaps, because he is overindulged. See, I was getting dressed in my closet, and he was standing next to me, and he wanted to get up on my stepstool, which I helped him up on even though it's kinda rickety and not so safe, and he fell off somewhat spectacularly while swinging his hammer. He didn't seem to be too much worse for wear, except for the dark, angry streak down his cheek. But it goes to show you (read: me) that you can't let up your guard even for a second.

Like yesterday, when Luke and I were sitting in the playroom, and the guestroom door was open because I had gotten out some art supplies...so Luke ran into the guest room and politely asked me to leave while he shut the door. No sooner had I told him, "Do not shut that door," when he tried to open it and in the process LOCKED the door FROM THE INSIDE.

Now imagine all time freezing and the rest of the world floating around us in suspended motion. I tried to pry the lock open with my finger, and in the process ripped off a large chunk of my thumbnail. Then I grabbed the phone and made a panicked phone call to Dave (voicemail! dammit!) while trying to sound relentlessly upbeat for Luke. "Hang on just a minute, there, buddy."

Could I break through the window outside? Tricky, because the shutters were also closed. Could I bash in the door? It's pretty flimsy, but I'd be afraid of bashing through and giving Luke a matching bruiser on the other cheek. Could I call 911? How long would it be? Would Luke go into panic like me?

Then I realized that the part I turned with my thumb could be turned with a screwdriver, so I dashed to the basement and grabbed it and - whew! - unlocked the door. In reality, it was only about 30 seconds but it happened in agonizingly slow motion.

Luke, calm as a cucumber, took one look at my thumb and said, "Mommy, need a band-aid?" I left a follow-up message on Dave's voice mail..."Uh, please disregard the previous message and tone of panic."

So Suzi and Boom-boom are coming over to babysit tonight while we go out to celebrate our anniversary. (How many years is it again? Six? Seven? Paper? Iron?) I know he will continue to entertain them with his adventurous food choices (yesterday = a marinated clove of garlic). Let's hope they're more careful than I am. (Not hard, says the peanut gallery.)