Blips

Around 11:30 p.m. I woke to loud sobs coming from the baby monitor. I went in AJ's room to find him comfortable, asleep, head on pillow, eyes closed, covered up neatly, but truly CRYING. "Mama... Mama..." Real tears had dripped down and his cheeks were wet. I stilled him with coos and my warm hand and "I'm here, it's OK"s, and that was that. It makes me so sad when he has bad dreams.

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Last night was Taco Night. (Ole!) I got all experimental in the kitchen and created for AJ a mini taco shell by cutting a smaller circle out of one of my 6" flour tortillas, and frying it up in canola oil. Then hung it over a wooden spoon, you know. You watch Food TV, right? It tasted like one of those edible Taco Salad bowls and he liked it. I figured something Tiny might entice him and I do believe my plan WORKED. Score one for Mama. (Never mind that he only ate the cheese and the shell. Score one for Fat, as well. But it's the PRINCIPLE of him eating the same thing we ate. I STILL WIN.)

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Kid phrases live on in family lore. I know this because I still think "maza-gine," for magazine, and "brek-swift" for breakfast. (Sis and I were so cute, weren't we?) One of AJ's latest goes along with his recent viewing of Scooby-Doo's various nemesises (word? Nemsii?)... He says, "I not scary of dat dhost." I hate Scooby Doo and I always have, but I just love when AJ says "not scary of dat." Preh. Shuss. Worth that stupid cartoon.

'Course, maybe cartoon monsters are creeping into his dreams. whoops.

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Last night hubby called to say he'd be home late. Then he called again "from traffic" which was supposedly very bad. I have a sneaking suspicion he was trying to fool me again. (Aren't I lucky?) :) I think it's more fun now for me to try and guess what his strategy will be, than to even receive the gifts. Hee hee.