We are still waiting for news about Sarah's grandmother. Elliot is still teething, diaper-rashing, and grumping some. Those last 2 molars are barging in. Boy wasn't very interested in dinner tonight.
But, as against all that, there is the basically comedic fact of Elliot's existence, lest we forget. Here's a Mad Lib.
While seated this evening on the edge of our bathtub, I spooned Elliot mouthful after mouthful of ____A____ for about ____B____ minutes, out of a _____C_____. His bath toys consisted of _______D_______.
Most of the time I was there, Elliot entreated me to ____E____ about various things. "You ____E____ about the fish? Now you ____E____ about the beater?... I'm swimming. In the ocean. Swimming! You want to ____E____ about me swimming?" I had to ____E____ and ____E____, but when he went to bed, he had a nice round belly, and I think he will sleep a long time.
A. Mueslix cereal with oats, blueberries, and beige flakes of some kind which he referred to as "turkey"
B. 40 minutes
C. A little plastic Cubs hat (possibly this originally contained novelty ice cream?)
D. A KitchenAid™ beater attachment, a metal bowl, a plastic fish, a green hair roller (which each of us wore in our curls, solemnly trading it back and forth), and a long flexible tube which he referred to as a "choo choo train"
E. "cry". (Sometimes after he asks me to cry or "whine" about something** (e.g. "This hat's upside down! This bowl is too small! This train is too long! This magnet is sticky!") he'll comfort me, putting his hand on my cheek, bringing his face to my face, and brightly saying, "Don't cry!")
** It all started as an anti-whining campaign, sort of a reverse psychology thing, but I don't know what it's turned into now.