Crunch, Crunch

Saturday again. After two weeks of snow (and, as a result, two weeks in which Iain attended daycare 3 days instead of 5) we're pretty much out of ideas. Entertaining the Young Man for 4 days in a row is quite a challenge.

So today we made waffles, like we do on Saturday mornings. I altered the recipe by adding a little vanilla extract, a little orange extract, and the zest of a clementine. It made them crispier (as promised by Poor Miriam*), but the orange flavor was hardly a whisper. I'll have to work on that.

Then, after Iain totally refused to nap, we drove to the library. That kid has radar, I swear. He walked down the aisle, past about 400 books (and kids' books are skinny, so you can't easily read the spines, as you can do with adult books), and reached right into the shelf for the one book called "GO! GO! GO!" It's a book about: fire trucks. What did you think?

20 books later (Inside the Firehouse, Airplanes Through Time, Firetrucks in Detail, etc. etc.), we pried Iain off the puzzle table ("Cement mixer!" "Front Loader!") and took him home.

Whereupon he melted down. Total, utter, crunch. And it was classic toddler behavior, too. He wanted up. No! Down! No, up. UP! etc.

By 6:15 he was fed, bathed, exposed to some Thomas the Tank Engine, and plopped in his bed. Not a peep since then. Whew. Don't ask me about tomorrow.


*Poor Miriam: Layover in Dallas? Nope, changed to a new plane after a mechanical problem. Flight to Australia? Nope, turned around 1.5 hours out over the Pacific because of a mechanical problem. By then it was the middle of the night, so she ended up in a hotel (at 6am! With only her carry-on luggage!), promised to board an 11am flight. BUT NO! Instead, she's supposedly getting out at 11pm tonight, flying straight to Melbourne rather than to Brisbane with a change of planes. I think Miriam's going to need a nice spa day tomorrow.