The trip this weekend to Houston was fantastic. We had a great time catching up with lots of friends and got to see how much everyone's kids (!) have grown. Our group of friends met when everyone was still kidless, and now, ten years later, everyone has at least one kiddo and in some cases, a second on the way. We spent Saturday afternoon on the back porch, watching the kiddos play on the swing set or run around screaming like banshees (my boy). I tried to explain that it was just the sugar, yeah, that's it, he's never this crazy. I don't think they bought it, they're all too smart for that. The birthday girl, who turned 2, was quite excited about her party but got a little tired of opening presents. Next year will be a completely different story, I'm sure.
Anyway, included in the mix of kiddos were a couple of really little ones, 8 or 9 month olds. My kiddos are well past infant stage, and I guess I've forgotten how little babies are, the expressions they make, how tiny they are, and how much fun they can be. I have NOT forgotten how much work they can be, but apparently I'm the only one who has forgotten that little bit of reality.
Saturday night, as J got in to bed after spending a good bit of time with his friends M and Mr. Crown, he commented on seeing all the babies that afternoon and how much fun they were. And maybe we should consider going for a third.
WHAT??? The temperature in our room dropped about 20 degrees as I struggled to comprehend that comment. I'm sorry, but WHAT??? I told him that a) he was drunk; and b) if he still wanted to talk about it when he was sober, we'd talk about it then. He has yet to bring it up again. I'm blaming temporary insanity.
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