A very old friend of mine is expecting her first baby in May. I think she knows it's not all rainbows and sippy cups. (Gail, stop reading!) But does she know that soon she'll be expected to tape a "collection bag" to her toddler's fat bottom and catch the warm serum of recently digested, locally produced milk for the HMO-approved lab? That is parenthood, my friends...
Margaret may -- or may not -- have a urinary tract infection. We shall know soon. In the meantime, she's mad as hell about all the brown rice and bananas on her tray. "That little baby is getting steak and strawberries, and she doesn't even like to eat! Pass it over here, Josephinie! Wha's this? Applesauce?? But I want ketchup! What's wrong with you people?! Aaaah!"
Dr. Lucy was quite excited by Margaret's recent illness. When she heard, she exclaimed, "Can I see Margaret throw up??"
"I hope she's done throwing up," I said.
"Why!" she demanded.
What else? Lucy presented her first project to school today. An Earth Day celebration of, "What Cows Give Us," that includes cut-out pictures of milk, yogurt, cheese, ice cream, of course, a few bloody steaks. Her understanding of these concepts: "The milk comes out of the cow like pee!"
We had a lovely visit this past weekend with Gigi and Poppa -- saw the butterflies and gorillas, the train store and book store, and all sorts of other adventurous places. Lucy had somebody to sleep with, which made her very very happy. But since they left, I keep discovering small half-eaten containers of cherry-flavored Tic Tacs everywhere, which Lucy assures me are hers and hers alone.
That, apparently, is grand-parenthood, my friends...