July 27th, 2004



Jet told John and I a ton of stories last night, after I got him from Joan's.

He told them to me on the drive to work as we were thinking about going to the Rec. Center and also letting him get his earned treat of going to McDonald's. In his car seat, in the back, he was pointing out where McDonald's, Joan's, Work, Home, and the Mountains were on his lap. He had them all spaced out on his little map, and then he started telling me about the McDonald's in the clouds over the mountains, and then about how the McDonalds had all died up there...

When John took him there for dinner (letting me finish something for a dropdeadline last night), Jet told him about things for a full hour. It took Jet an hour to eat his chicken and fries, between telling John all kinds of disjointed sentences about everything he imagined or thought about and explaining it all in earnest. Then he turned into (I love archangelbeth's phrase "turned balseraph", which means more to In Nomine players, but it entirely appropriate) a balseraph and started stating, quite firmly, that if he ate his fries he'd get another juice box, eventhough John kept telling him that he had to eat his chicken to get another juice box. Hee.

Then, of course, Jet noticed the "helicopter" on the clmbing tubes, which is just a box with a steering wheel in it that the kids can climb up to and look down on everyone else. Jet gave John a "rope" and then a few more, and then Jet found an "engine" and grunted and tossed it up onto the helicopter. Strong kid. He put eight engines on the helicopter, all the ropes he'd given John, and then pointed out the baby lions in one corner and the mommy lion in the other. John asked, "Why don't they just run to their momma?"

Jet looked at him like he was nuts, "They're stuck in the mud!"


That, of course, is when John called to say that they were mostly done with dinner, and was I mostly done with work? I was. So we went home, got a salad from Outback (there's a brand new Outback less than a mile from home. This could be dangerous, but we're finding that we love their salads, of all things), and ate and played Wallace and Grommet tapes and then the game, downstairs. And Jet did great with potty stuff until just before going to bed. I think we're going to count this one as a dry and clean day anyway, as he was so tired by the end of the night that everything turned into an argument. He'd only had an hour's nap at Joan's, so really needed to go to sleep early.

He didn't wake up until nearly 8 this morning, which is very unusual. I was most of the way out of the door.

My cold has weakened. I blame Zicam, mostly, though I hate the new pouch things. I liked the tubes. I could put another Q-Tip inside and use the same stuff two or even three times. Now I have to throw the darn thing away with all the goo everytime I use it. Convenient for work, though. It's keeping the whole thing under enough control that I can think, at least.