Hi, folks. It's been awhile! I've been meaning to write about my weekend spent feeling very tall and very old, surrounded by tiny people.
Pete and I were lucky to snag a visit with Anna, Theron, and Baby J, while T was in town to check out expensive dental drills and wander the streets of Boston. I have to say, while his parents are pretty great, Baby J was downright delightful.
Unfortunately for Baby J, as far as I'm concerned he will be Baby J for the rest of his life. Never just J, but Baby J. When Baby J is 25 and coming to visit his mom and his aunties with his new girlfriend, I can just image us, a bunch of boozy old ladies, yelling: "Baby J, bring me another martini! Did you tell your friend you used to go through 12 diapers a day?" Baby J might be 6' 2" with a beard and tatoos, but too bad for him. Still Baby J. Actually, a huge tattooed guy called "Baby J" sounds like he might be the kind of guy who carries around a crowbar...
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Phew! I'm not sure where I was going when I started this post, but here's the end: thanks to Baby J and his parents for visitng -- come back! Thanks to tiny K for turning 3 and for the fabulous princess cocktail ring and magic wand.
Until we meet again...