Yesterday was a better day. Stella did well at school, even serving as the “class leader” and cleaned up after herself. She was cheerful when Felix and I picked her up and managed to steal about 2.25 lbs of sand from the playground; 1.75 of that was in her shoes and the other 0.5 was in her hair, butt, girlie bits, and in between her toes.
There is sand everywhere. My kitchen floor has a perpetual case of grit no matter how much I sweep and vacuum. Her bathtub stays well sedimented. Sand stays in her bed no matter how much I launder sheets. You can’t get it out of her hair and off of her scalp. This type of thing requires a dunking of the head and while Stella is a real good sport about bathing, dunking is still a ways away.
My children are both also ill. It’s a run of the mill cold, but it sucks. I know I’ve mentioned my hatred for snot. Snot mixed with sand becomes this partially biogenic grout. Next to dried oatmeal or banana, it may be a solution for how to buttress the levee system in New Orleans.
It’s OK, Army Corps of Engineers. That one is on the house.
Felix is going, going, going. He’s not quite 7 months old, but this is a determined little dude. I’ve been on Will to drop the crib mattress. He’s blown me off for a week now, until I showed him the night-vision snapshots last night of him damn near pulling up. If he does, the crib rail will come up to his waist. This kid is tall.
He goes on these search and destroy missions for things that catch his eye. His movements are so much more deliberate and purposeful than Stella’s were at this age. He’s already starting to get on his sister’s nerves when she’s trying to play with a game or toy. We are so screwed.
T minus 16 days until the beach. I haven’t had a vacation in a year. And yes, smart asses, I’m aware that the beach is FULL of sand.