Well, we've started trying the big boy bed thing. I started with naps, in the daytime. It's a twin, pushed against a wall, with a bed rail. He loves it, at least the idea of it. So, I started with naps a few weeks ago and everything went just fine. Until last week. He's never gotten out during a nap, but a few nights ago, at 3:00 a.m., a little boy in footie jammies padded into my bedroom carrying his copy of Emily's New Coaches asking, "Daddy read it." It startled me, and I realized how grateful I was that nothing was going on, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.
So, I scooped him up and put him in his crib. Sleep tight, little prisoner!
Tonight, he had terrible hiccups when we put him to bed, in the twin bed. It wasn't long before we heard the hiccups getting louder, and the door open, and a little voice calling, "Chri-is!" He obviously has heard Iain call me Chris, but I don't think he's made the connection that I actually have a name, and that it's Chris/tie. By the time I got to his room he had crawled back into the bed and was asking me where the tractor book was.
So funny. Really fun stuff! So banal, so ordinary. So everyperson. I love it.
To the two wonderful gals from my long-ago life who commented on my post, thank you. I would have responded to each of you but either Blogger doesn't give me your email or I don't know how to find it through you posting. Email me!
It's Labor Day night, and I'm logged on my computer working my new Live Ops gig (see http://www.liveops.com ), hoping to get calls. It's interesting, and possibly fun. I'll let you know later.
We got a new car last week, finally. Iains' Saab finally gave up the ghost so he went and leased me a new Camry. We are sedan people. No SUV's or minivans. Sedans. Boring, ho-hum, but that's who we are. I do love the car. But in the end, it's just a car and I don't get very emotional about them so there you go.
Iain is still looking for a new job. I am completely baffled at how difficult his job search is. I am tempted to post his resume on my blog, in hopes that someone will stumble across it and offer him a job. When he got that darn MBA from The University of Texas at Austin (helllooooo...top rated program career office people??) we really thought it would put us in a better position, rather than a worse one. Now we have to pay back these enormous loans and have nothing to show for them. Well, nothing in our bank accounts.
We really want to have another baby, but for that to happen he's got to get a new job. Fast.
Everything else is pretty great. Duncan keeps us laughing, like when he's lying in bed with us and all of a sudden says, "I farted!"