Baby fish mouth is sweeping the nation...

...And check out the David Hasselhoff chest he's flashing there.

Word of the day: KEEN

As in "I'm not keen on sisters."

Bubby Articulates!

The first word out of this:

Was this:

"Keeeeeeee!!"

To be fair, they did bond early on.

The friendship is a bit strained as of late, seeing as Bubby is only interested in trying to eat the cat these days.

School is in session!

This is surely a monumentous occasion. Particularly so considering the hour and a half war-to-end-all-wars we engaged in this morning over whether or not his new teacher would like him to wear a shirt with buttons or not. He was quite convinced that since HE did not want to wear a shirt with buttons (a super handsome shirt with a cowboy on the back that I picked out especially at Gymboree, thank you very much), surely SHE would be opposed to buttons as well. There was screaming. There was wailing. And there may have been gnashing of teeth, although by that point I had employed my supermom-ignore-abilities, so I can't say for certain. In the end we compromised on a shirt without a full set of buttons and "his favorite and his best" camo pants. Not the picture-perfect outfit I had in mind for his first day of REAL school, but whatever. If there is anything I've learned through motherhood, it's that sometimes you just have to let the little things go...

So here he is, settling in, without even a glance back over his shoulder at ol' mom and dad. So, so ready for school to start. His friend Blake is in his class which is very cool and exciting since he and Blake go way back. Way back to preschool, that is. And check out that ubercool backpack. My dad calls me Queen-o-the-internet and Queen-o-the-internet I may be. How else would I have found such an adorable (and personalized) backpack just PERFECT for kindergarten. I'm sure by next year he'll think that it was the dorkiest thing ever and no self-respecting kid would be caught dead carrying such a bag, but for now he adores it.

The logic of a 5 year old:

Grandpa's prized basketball, signed by Jeff Hornacek of the Utah Jazz is super cool.

BUT! It would be SUPER DUPER cool....

...if I sign it too!!!

(Fortunately he has rather forgiving grandparents.)

This puts a smile on my face:

Me: 1 Refrigerator: 0

I have beat my frig into submission. Why is this noteworthy you might ask? Because although I am a generally tidy and organized individual with rather high standards of cleanliness, in the nearly eleven years I have had stewardship over a refrigerator of my own, I have done a thorough cleaning 3 or perhaps 4 times. This would absolutely horrify my mother and bring a cloak of shame over generations of women in my family if it were widely known.

I abhor frig cleaning. I have my mother to thank for this, I think. Years of chore lists - weekly frig cleaning included, of course - have left me rebellious against certain tasks. You would think that if I was rebelling against my past chore responsibilities, I would avoid any and all household tasks. But no. In fact E thinks I may be having a love affair with the vacuum. I get a rush from washing light switch plates and door frames. A clean window or mirror gives me such pleasure. Dusting?....Well, I completely hate dusting, but you get the idea. I practically break out in hives thinking about cleaning the frig. I would rather sanitize the toilets. Truly.

But I have (temporarily) overcome my frig-cleaning angst and have tackled the job with great gusto. I now have a sparkly-clean refrigerator that my mother would be beaming-proud of. Here's a little summary of how it went down...

packages of moldy pepperoni - 1, gone

pieces of dry mystery cheese, the hardness and density of a brick - 1, gone

packages of tortilla shells - 5 (WHY?!?)

packages of flaxseed meal - 1 (again, WHY?!?) and by the way, what IS flaxseed meal?

tiny packs of ketchup from fast-food eateries - 8, gone

empty bottles of tartar sauce - 1, gone

total count dead flies - 2 (ACK!)


So without further adieu, here is a gratuitous photo of my now clean refrigerator:

(Don't ask about the freezer. I don't do freezers.)