Tuckered

Yesterday, Iain had a full shed-yool, as the Brits would say. Up before the sun (grr!), he began his day by taking Dad's car to the dealership for a recall repair. Then breakfast at Bob Evans, where the Little Man insisted on sitting in Mom's lap. Then it was off to Meijer for groceries, home for a snack, back out to the dealer to pick the car up, off to the Bowes' and from there to the Woodland Park Art Festival.

Afterward, Iain needed another snack (naturally), and a nap. But the night was young, and so was our hero.

So it was back to the Bowes' for dinner and socializing. Callie was, as always, in fine fettle. She's "cruising," mostly around the coffee table, and can crawl the way a certain Olympic swimmer can race. Fast, genius, fast.


She's cuter than cute, especially when that lower lip disappears.

Dinner was kind of disappointing. There was teriyaki salmon (grilled, with swordfish for Charles), summer veggies (asparagus, zucchini, red bell peppers), potato salad and yellow squash pie. But Iain got nothing, hence the disappointment. He feels that if the adults are going to eat all that, he should get something more than an ice cube touched against his little tongue. It just isn't fair.

Today proved calmer. Farmer's Market, then grocery store, then home for an afternoon of eating, screaming, peeing and - eventually - napping.

Napping on the grown-ups bed is the best:

But you need to hold on. Otherwise, you might fall off the side of the bed.

Whew! Some weekend. It'll be good to get back to the weekdays, when it's all just screaming, eating, and napping. All this stimulation wears a body out.