Buddies?

Who would have thought these two would form a friendship. My boy and my girly-girl princess play together more often any other combo and I can't figure it out. One would assume, knowing these two, that he would be ignored by her (at best). For some reason he thinks she's the berries and she is nicer to him than the girls. Not sure if it's the fact that the current littlest girls are so incredibly independent they don't need to play with anyone, or that they don't allow themselves to be directed by Ainsley like Johnny does (which does not endear them to her), or a combination of the two...

Regardless, it's fun to see Ainsley finally enjoying one of her siblings and to also have two of them in non-battle mode. Actually, it's sweet. Very, very sweet.

John had a meeting one night and Ainsley informed me I wouldn't have to put Johnny to bed - she would do it. And she did. Right down to the reading of books and snuggle time, which was a total surprise since A is one of my two cold-pricklies. What was even more of a surprise was that he cried when she left because he wanted her to snuggle longer.





He is also willing (please forgive me, Sweet Boy, for posting this!) to play "Beauty Shop" with her. Today she brought him down and he proudly showed off his new hairdo, which of course I don't have a picture of. He looked good, though. Trust me.

Typical beauty shop set-up.

Well, This Is Embarrassing

So for the last few days I've been meaning to tell John something was wrong with the steering in the super-hot minivan. Every time I turned the wheel I would hear some sort of rasping sound and I was bummed every time because I was not looking forward to the logistics of how to handle life without the ability to cart all the kids around for the several hours/days it would take to have the thing fixed.

I diagnosed the problem on my way to pick up the littlest ones from preschool and was mortified. The sound? My steering wheel scraping against my ginormous belly every time I made a turn.

Four more weeks. I can do this.

I Love Cows

Actually, I don't love cows that much - one summer afternoon I was chased by a few during my teen years as I cut across a field while training for an upcoming cross country season, which means I no longer think they belong in the "cute farm animal" category. I do love what they give us, though. I'm not sure what I would do if I was lactose intolerant. Why? Because throughout this pregnancy, all I want to eat (and what Cinco tolerates) are dairy products. Cinco violently rejects anything but comfort food, fruit, and sugar. Vegetables are unnecessary, which is fine by me. I've always had to force myself to eat them anyway. But slap a yukon gold on a plate, slather it with butter and cheese and sour cream, and she is super happy, which makes me super happy.

So thank you, cows. Thank you, dairy farmers. You have provided a significant proportion of my caloric intake for the past 34 weeks.