Changing the subject -- guess what? My little girl is six years old, can you believe it? Her birthday party was today. She invited a bunch of old and new friends, and it was fun to see some familiar parent faces and meet some new parents. I particularly enjoyed the fact that one parent mentioned that his law firm had five (FIVE) lawsuits pending against Governor Walker's administration, and another little kid came late because his father had to finish up his preparatory training for the Recall Walker effort.
Here is Stella at her party, blowing out the candles. I have to admit that she originally picked out a blue plaid fleece and pink leopard print pants to wear to the party. I made her change, squelching her creativity once again. When she's in fashion school, she's going to cuss me every which way.
Speaking of fashion, it turns out that if you are a little boy with an older sister, you get dressed up a lot. Baby W enjoys dressing up as well, although he also enjoys flushing an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet, square by square, so I wouldn't necessarily put a lot stock in his opinion of what is fun.
Here are some of Baby W's best dress-up looks. There's the Babushka Cowboy. He's riding the turnips out on the great prairies of the Ukraine. Actually, if you look closely you can see that he's also wearing beads, so perhaps this look would best be called the Babushka Cowboy Goes to Mardi Gras.
By the way, David and I once had a lengthy discussion as to whether the word babushka referred to an elderly Russian grandmother (which is what I thought) or an attractive Russian woman (which is what David thought.) Of course I was right, but as a result of having the conversation, now _I_ can't remember what babushka means. It's like David has infected me with his confusion. I realize after 15 years together there are bound to be ups and downs but this one is definitely going on the gripe list.
Here's another look of Baby W's. You might call this one Barrette-o-mania:
And a little something called the Jackie O. You can just barely see David behaving like paparazzi in the background. And is it me, or does Baby W have a little sassy cock to his hip? Few people know that Jackie O had a soft spot for Thomas the Tank Engine.
Clearly I wasn't cut out for posting every day. But I've recovered from my brief burst of ambition, and now hope to return to my normal twice-a-week schedule. And then go ride the turnips, out on the range.