Those Weren't Real Boulders
No no. The real boulders appeared this morning, when Leelo tried to jump into our bed, got vetoed, started crying, and triggered a steady dripping onto my arm--Mali's drink of choice, soaking right through my shirt. The sleeping-on-towels phase, which I stupidly thought I'd avoided, is upon us.
As for the boulders themselves, they are porn-star hilarious in their size and tumescence. I took a picture, but suspect that Seymour'd like to keep it for himself, as there's not going to be much else action for him during the next six weeks--I am pelvically sidelined on doctor's orders.
Mali continues to be a very good baby. Sleeps, eats, poops, screams bloody murder when you change her drawers. Mostly sleeps. Alert and awake for maybe 10 minutes every three hours. I am hoping beyond hope that she continues to be this mellow.
The parents at Leelo's preschool, Iron Gate, are making us dinners every other night through the holidays. After that I get to pump the local mothers club! Woo! I promise to cease making fun of both organizations until the final meal has been delivered.
Although we did go to dinner at Surrraj last night, tomorrow will be Mali's first offical day out--to coffee, natch.
Post-birth details (the tubal ligation!) to come tomorrow some time.
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