Bath Time Chef

What's that you say? You have a chef in your bathtub? Yup, we do.

Lately G-man whips us up some very creative "meals" while lathering up in the tub. His specialty is "a wittuhl bit of onions, some pah-me-san, some spink-uhls and salt" (aka: a little bit of onions, some parmesan, some sprinkles and salt). All whisked together gracefully with his pretend spoon in his famous gallon sized OU bath cup.

It is quite a tasty treat for the bather...is that a word? Bather? You know, the parent who is getting drenched, I mean administering the bath?

I must say that seeing and hearing and watching Garrett come up with pretend scenarios is so much fun. I am loving watching his creativity. Tonight Kenny and I just laughed and laughed and laughed. And took some pictures. I know, I know. He is probably too old for bath time pics. I will learn to restrain myself soon. Until then, take a peek at the chef himself:

No Room at the Inn

Last night we took a leisurely little jaunt down to the local frozen custard place. It has become a favorite of the boys, especially if Mama has had a long, tiring day. But, every now and again I will go along for company. Not for ice cream. Yep. You read that right. I don't like ice cream.

Anywho, last night we all went down to Double Dip which has an oh-so-fabulous small town charm to it. After ordering and getting our treats, we sat on the park benches to just "be". It really is a great place to just sit and eat, usually in silence, and enjoy watching all of the other families and kiddos soaking in summer nights.

Because I was not partaking in the frozen custard happiness, I had a bit more time to talk OR speak on behalf of the rambling thoughts in my head. So, I asked Garrett, "Hey Buddy, what do you think about having a little brother or sister?" To which he answered, "NO!" And I said, "Why not, buddy?" To which he said, "Mama, the-uh is not woom in ow-uh house for a baby. Only woom for Mommy, Daddy and Gawett."

Apparently there is no room in our inn. Or at least in the measuring standards of his royal highness.

Knots...

I woke up this morning with no premonition as to what stage "we" would venture into this morning. Again, my heart - longing for the baby in my boy - received some chiseling. I am not sure WHY this act thrust my heart into my throat longing for the baby-ness of Garrett, but it did.

We met up with some friends for breakfast at McDonald's and some play time on the indoor playground, play scape thingy. Whatever it's called. You know, the slimy, germ invested place.


As Garrett tried to run over to his friend and proceed to climb up one step, he tripped and fell and hit his noggin on the plastic step. Normally he would pick himself and keep on running, but this time he cried and cried REAL crocodile tears. After several minutes of some Momma lovin' he was back playing.


A few minutes after that he ran over to tell me something....and look what had poked out to stare at me:

It's kind of hard to tell from this picture that the red spot in between his eyes is actually quite 3-D. It hasn't bothered him since. But let me just tell you. It has bothered me into quite a panic. I immediately began asking all the mommas what to do. Apparently, he'll live. Apparently, I have a boy on my hands. A big boy who gets knots on his head as he rumbles and tumbles.

Hence the heartache. He's really growing up. He's really not going to freeze and stay this way forever. And, to quote the little man himself, "Bumm-uh" (aka: bummer).