VivaCity

Nathaniel has the boys this afternoon...Daycare is closed a half-day, for God knows what. Hopefully it's a seminar on new-age techniques for deterring treasure hunters' little fingers from that mystical of all places, the nostril. Please God, let it be that. I'm finding it hard to muster up sufficient disgust to display when reacting to finding Spence digging for gold..."No. Stop. Don't. It's yucky. Sooo yucky. Super yucky. Seriously. Quit it." I would love some fresh insight on this.

So for whatever reason, those darling women (& man) have closed their doors this afternoon, sending the boys home to watch approximately, let's see, 4.5 hours of television until I arrive from work. Nathaniel does a good job, I will say...for a man. Let's face it, nobody quite equals Mommy. I have a little song that goes like this...Anything I can do, he can do...adequately.

They will be fine. The boys are at a GREAT age, the both of them, Spence with his endless conversations - "A plane! Look, a plane! A plane can fly. A plane has wings. A plane goes like this. What letter does the word 'plane' start with? Puh, puh, puh...letter...P! There's a 'P' in my name. My name is Spencer. I'm growing bigger bigger bigger. I can do this and this and this. I can JUMP higher in the SKY! What letter does the word 'jump' start with? Juh, juh, juh..." & so on, & so forth...& so on, & so forth...& so on, & so forth...it never ends, really. Just morphs to accommodate the current situation, until he falls asleep at some point, babbling til the last nanosecond of consciousness. Precious.

And Julian finds all this terribly amusing, from his perch in his swing, or his hip-as-hell Bumbo seat, or the walker...babbles right back. He is so sure they are having an actual conversation that he becomes quite upset when Spence goes about the crucially important business of being 3 and leaves the baby hanging mid-sentence. Which of course Nathaniel and I find HILARIOUS. Is it wrong to laugh at your baby's quivery little lower lip?? Are we horrible people?? I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if twin bolts of lightning should strike us both down in our lawn chairs.

So here I am, stuck in this meat locker called "the office," so sure they are having a terrific time, the time of their lives, simply because I am not there...But in reality, it is CartoonFest 2006 at my house right now, I'm sure of it. There isn't a greater tradition Nathaniel can pass down, not a single male bonding moment wasted when Ye Olde Boob Tube is on. So plant your asses, guys, and try not to have too much fun, 'cause Momma's coming home.