Ok, that is the only thing I can think of to rhyme with thirty. I can't freakin believe that little Mikey is 30. I remember very well when he was born - I was still back in CA-- mom had flown out to VA and Jane had been in labor for like a week. When we finally got the call with the news that it was a boy, he was 20 pounds or something like that, we were relieved. Then we didnt' get to see pictures until mom came back to CA and then they were only polaroids. I didnt' really get to see him until he was 6 months old, and he was huge! We actually (Nancy and I) fought over holding him. He loved to play and laugh and didnt' mind us changing his outfits several times a day.
I also think that around this time Dad is celebrating a birthday - is it 20 years?
I am almost over my cold, but am about to have cramps, so my mood is crappy. Cramps - hooray!!!
There is a post I am thinking of about regrets. Because, regrets, I've got a few. The one that is haunting me tonight is regretting I didn't kiss and hug my little girl a whole bunch more than I did.
Oh, and don't tell me about Bruti being a fraidy cat, my dog is afraid of an extension cord laying on the floor. Oh, and the floor itself.
ta ta for now, Ellen
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