A Nice Day (Medicated)

Iain awoke this morning at 6:48am. But no worries. I buried my head in the covers and whispered "go back to sleep!" and he did. Until 8:29. Yay!


For brekkie, we made waffles. Recall that we received the above device (A Cuisinart) for Christmas. Iain sat beside me and helped ensure that I didn't leave anything out - eggs, flour, oil, salt, baking powder and soda, sugar and milk. He waved a whisk at me to keep my attention focused.

I told him the machine would be ready when it beeped. It beeped. Iain said "BEEEP!"

He consumed an entire waffle, with butter and syrup, for brekkie, accompanied by a healthy dose of milk. Minus waffles for me and Charles we again had 6 waffles to freeze, so the menfolk can eat a waffle this week anytime they like.

After that, we had to shop.

In the run-up to our trip west, I used up all kinds of things and didn't replace them. "Oh, I'll just get more salad dressing when we return," I thought. But you may recall that we returned around 11pm and I had to teach the next morning. Oh, and did I mention that I like to take salad for lunch? Hmmm... [I can report that Mark Bittman's recipe for a little bit of vinaigrette (1.5T vinegar, 3T oil, plus a little salt plus a little mustard, plus a little sugar plus something flavor-y like shallots or garlic or herbs) isn't bad.]

But between my new MFW teaching schedule and my trip to Frankfort Thursday to talk with middle school teachers, we just didn't have a moment to get milk or kiwi or cereal or any of the things Iain consumes by the pound.

So we spent the day shopping. In the morning, for meat and eggs, then in the afternoon Charles and Iain went out for everything else. I curled up on the sofa for a nap while my drugs kicked in.

Because - YES - I am sick again. Yucky sick, too. Lots of nose-blowing and coughing and a regular supply of antibiotics and Mucinex and Nyquil.

It's ok, though, because Iain is in such a good mood. Last night he stood at the living room coffee table and literally rocked with glee. He flung out his arms, then pulled them back in, giggling. We asked him, "Are you in a good mood?" and he couldn't even answer because he was grinning too hard. Then, today, he spent his time ping-ponging from me to Charles, offering hugs and reading books and playing Tickle Truck ("What kind of truck is that? Oh, a dump truck. And that? A cement mixer? What about the Tickle Truck? Do you see one of those? No? How about NOW!!!").

Iain is abed, Charles is feeding the dogs (and probably dipping into the dark chocolate raspberry ice cream), and I'm about to go read a book.