Nobody cracks me up like my husband, Bill. Read his wonderful post, "Afternoon Delight," at his blog, "Bill of the Birds." And don't miss his photo captions!
Here's what happens when you tell your husband there's no way he can leap to the top of a ten-foot hayroll. (Because there's absolutely no way you can, and you can't imagine anyone else could.)
I told Bill that if a mountain lion were chasing me, I couldn't get up on that hayroll. I think it's a weight distribution issue.
This morning, Liam asked me, "Mommy, when will I be old enough to have pope?"
"Pope? What's pope?"
"You know, the big-guy drink." (He had been offered a can of pop at a friend's house, and combined the words Coke and pop. I declined for him. He's never tasted either one.)
"Oh, pope. Umm, I suppose when you're eighteen, and I can't tell you what to do any more."
Needless to say, it's now called pope at our house. But we still don't drink it.
Now go visit Bill of the Birds!
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