funny things.

Without fail, whenever I see something really funny I am without my camera.

There was a time when I carried around a big honking purse (which was actually a stylish and expensive laptop bag) for the sole purpose of carting around my old Nikon D50 as well as baby wipes, diapers, toys, and other mommie items, but mostly to have my camera close. Of course this is not the best solution for one with degenerative disc disease and chronic back pain. So about a year ago (after shooting RAW with a DSLR for 3 years, I thought it would be handy to have a nifty little point and shoot that would fit conveniently in my change purse... I returned it the same day after a dozen or so crappy shots. Oh well.

And sure, I have one of those so-called "smart" phones with a camera in it but those images suck too. --Besides, after my smart phone navigated itself to my ebay application and purchased for me a watched item while deep inside my pocket, I decided to password protect the damn thing... which kinda hinders the ability to access the camera function quickly.

So last week, I'm driving my son to preschool when I take note of the car in front of me, an older station wagon, being driven by an elderly man with two passengers - a white-haired older lady in the back passenger seat and a gray-haired lady in the front with one of those poufy-old-lady-helmet-hairdos. We're stopped at a stoplight and suddenly the helmet-head lady turns to the driver to reveal the elongated snout of a giant poodle smiling smugly. I immediately burst out laughing driving down the road fumbling to unlock my damn phone to snap a photo of the funniest thing I've seen in a while... The car turned off (I almost followed them!) and I missed the shot. But I'm willing to bet money that the woman in the back seat was the wife!

Fast forward through the hysteria and Easter maddness to this week...

Monday morning I arrive at Liam's preschool to find, not one, not two, but three vultures perched upon the swing set of the school's playground, presumably awaiting for a wounded toddler to hobble out and fall over for easy pickings. That's never a good sign. But oh what a picture!

And me without my camera, again.

"He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. And that was all his patrimony."

...Rafael Sabatini

secrets.

flower., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

Once upon a time, our little guy made a wonderful transition from crib to toddler bed and slept like an angel in his own room. We were so proud.

And then along came a loud, scary thunderstorm one night and frightened him right into our bed where he has been reluctant to leave every since. We spent hours and hours on many a night sitting outside of Liam's room waiting for him to fall into sweet slumber only to awaken at three a.m. with a foot in our ribs or a headbutt to the nose as he nestled in between us. Finally in an exhausted compromise to overcome sleep deprivation, we simply gave up and decided to move his bed into our room. So, our nearly four year old son now sleeps at the foot of our bed.

You can imagine the inconvenience of this arrangement without the need for elaboration, but hey, at least we're able to get some badly needed shut-eye. We can only hope that he moves out before college.

While this does somewhat simply our bedtime routine, he no longer falls asleep by himself and so, bedtime goes something like this...

Tonight (my turn): Liam and I are laying in bed; I have just finished reading two short stories about Biscuit the puppy with Liam "reading" the "Woof! Woof!" parts. Afterward, he is quietly reading his book to himself as he likes to do and I am watching television. When he is done, he clunks me in the head handing me the book and informs me that he is finished and turns his back to me, which tells me he is almost out for the count.

The room is quiet, the volume is low, and suddenly, my son rolls over, creeps up close to me whispering sweetly into my ear in his angelic little boy voice as though he is sharing with me something truly sacred and says, "Jelly don't go in the freezer... jelly goes in the 'frigerator Mommie."

I stifle a snort of laughter, "That's right baby, jelly goes in the refrigerator."

And with that, he's out. =)

"As much as I converse with sages and heroes, they have very little of my love and admiration. I long for rural and domestic scene, for the warbling of birds and the prattling of my children."

...John Adams