Back...

S & I went out to a dinner party last Thursday at an old work friend of S's. Ms Z stayed home, and was chaperoned by T & R from across the street (did I mention we have fantastic neighbors?).

Interesting group: there were about 8 people there, and two of them were current US Congressmen. In any case, conversation turned to kids, as it often does in such situations, and S's old boss Susan and I were swapping anecdotes. After a few minutes, Susan got a wistful look and said, "You should write all this stuff down, because you never remember it later.

So I'm going to try to get into the habit of coming here more often. Maybe every morning, if I can.

Ms Z content: She's got her first real illness as a toddler--nothing serious, just the stomach flu that's been going on. I came into her bedroom, and S was sleeping with her. God, they looked so beautiful together. S said that Ms Z had just told her the story of how the stars got on her ceiling. "I did it with Papa on the stepladder." Then she thanked S for painting her room, and told her she did a good job.

She's also taken to saying "I love Mama." Or "I love you." Couldn't your heart just break?