Paul McCartney's Birthday

Today's my birthday.
Today is also Paul McCartney's birthday.
Sweet!

Want to know what else is sweet?

Clark.
Tonight we were reading "Love You Forever,"
(you know... Love you forever, Like you for always, As long as I'm living...?)
and right at the end, where the Mama gets all old and sick, Clark jumped up and half whispered, half spit in my ear (my heart does still melt even if it entails wet willies) "don't read it when you get to the song!"
So I didn't.
And he threw his arms around me and not-too-gently rocked me back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked me, he said:
"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my Mama you'll be."
And then my cheek met the nicest biggest goofiest Clark-smooch.

Yep.
CUTEST SON EVER.

BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

A Tantrum, from Megan

"Forget-to-feed-me-nots"

From me: We had another baby. Her name is Megan. She just turned one year old. She's very very sweet. But this week she started throwing tantrums. Yay.

From Megan:

Mom just doesn't get me. She pulled out a piece of licorice and I saw it, so I hurled myself to the floor and started screaming to let her know I could be appeased with it. Instead of inserting licorice and a little part of her finger into my bitey chompers, she picked me up, gave me a very stupid-looking one-eyebrow-up kind of a look and said "obviously none for you." Mean Mama.

Then she started filling me a bath which I was very excited about so I crawled towards the bathroom I'm never allowed to crawl in (sometimes my siblings sprinkle when they tinkle and they aren't always neat and don't always wipe the seat), and mom picked me up and walked toward the non-bath. I tried to hurl myself out of her arms hoping I would freefall sideways across the house and into that delightful water, magically naked, having flailed all my clothing off in the wiggling to get down phase, but rather than struggle to hold me in my happy floppy screaming display of how much I adore baths, she set me in my "play" pen and said something to the effect of "don't hurt yourself" and patted me on the top of my angry little head.

Someone needs to teach her that instead of ignoring tantrums, she should...

...hello?...

....hello???....

....Is anyone reading!?!?

I sure smell good after that bath. Ends up it was for me! Go figure she wanted to test and adjust the water first and not burn my flawlessly gorgeous baby skin. And go figure she'd want to get washcloths and towels before plunking me in so I wouldn't spend a single moment without someone to drench as I splashed myself silly. I liked my Mumsie so much I gave her a big hug when she took me out. She had a nice soggy me-print on her shirt. She looked more ridiculous than she usually does when she's praying noone comes to the door until she gets a chance to pee and pull the cheerios out of her hair.

I spent the rest of the night flopping myself in the direction of my once filled, now drained bath and screaming about wanting to have another bath so I hope she gets the point we should do this more than once or twice a week.

SHE"S PUTTING ME IN MY CRIB FOR BED! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Send help. This is my message in a bottle. Seriously. I've been marooned in my crib.