I'm meh about the chance of snow, too. Especially because it looks like another one of those typical Seattle snow scenarios where it dips into the 20's at night, snows, and then warms up during the day just slowly enough to create a slippery, slushy mess when you want to leave the house.

I closed my eyes, and wished very hard for you, Jilli. Did it work?

No, drat it all.

I got to kindergarten and realized that not only were all the other kids unable to read, they were completely uninteresting.

Same here. But at least when I told them that I was going to grow up and be the Wicked Witch of the West, they believed me. *And* asked me to put a curse on the school bully.

I could read by the time I got to kindergarten and I was quite unnerved by the teachers who were pointing to letters and saying "This is Mr. A and this is Mr. B." I thought my parents were being forced by something dreadful to lock me up with crazy people.

I think I felt like that till high school.

I was born on the cutoff day for my school district (Sept. 1) for a child's age, so they let my parents choose whether or not to let me in a bit young. I could read at five, so they let me in. This meant I got to be both ahead of and younger than my peers for all of my primary school years, which caused me no problems whatsoever, naturally.

Warning: Big-assed meara. Um. Not meara herself. Just, the call-and-response sort of post named after her. Here.

billytea, I'm so, so sorry you're having to deal with this, on top of your sorrow. You are a good and decent man, and deserve much better treatment at the hands of fate.

vw! Yay, paid off car! And woo! to the streaking.

Deena, you sound like me with a new tactile hobby. I've been planning a trip to the yarn store since Christmas, to look for some wonderful synthetic fuzzy or eyelash stuff to crochet a scarf. Or an afghan. Or maybe both. I've never really got the hang of knitting, but I can single crochet like a fiend. And yay! to the clean kitchen, and the non-banananess of your decor.

Hil, is there any possibility you can have all your prescriptions sent to the privately-owned pharmacy near your parents' home, have them fill them as needed (you may need to call or write them a reminder shortly before a refill is due), and pay a small fee to have them mail the scripts to you? I've done that, when I was working out of town and the local drug chain decided to be unreliable. I don't know if there are still "drugs by mail" services, but I used those, too, once upon a time, and found them more reliable than local stores' having a stock sufficient to fill a script at the time I needed one.

Annabel just pulled herself up to standing in her playpen.

Whee! Yay, Annabel!

she awoke to discover a not-Daddy sitting in Daddy's chair, working on Daddy's computer, and carrying on a friendly conversation with Mama.

She gave him the evil eye until he left.

::waving at Maria:: Hi! Good to see you. But sorry about the stoopid IRS.

Your little girl sounds like a pistol, Burrell. And Amy's Sara,

She leans down, curls her little fists, and makes a sound that, come to think of it, is a little bit like "Mwah haha!" But higher-pitched.

sounds like she's training for the Ban Sidhe trials. I got your card today, Ms. Amy. Thank you!

If it weren't for peer pressure nobody would be potty trained.

Oh, I beg to differ. We waited with StE till StY was a year old, so we could try to train them together. StY took awhile to catch on, but StE (always the fastidious one. He held his hands out to the side when we spoon fed him, so as not to get them "messy", and declined to finger feed) succeeded on the first try, then gave us a dirty look as if to say, "Why didn't you tell me about this before?!"

I dunno. I think eventually, sitting around with a load of your own poop in your pants has got to get old.

You'd think, but for some kids, it really doesn't.

StY. Who never had a fastidious bone in his body until he started dating.

Jilli, no one could EVER take you as a cautionary tale. More like a role model.

What Teppy said. Plus extra feelbetter-ma for Jilli.

I'm an only who never went to preschool, or had frequent playdates. I started school a year early, though, and was pretty much a social horror all the way through.

I don't think siblings would have helped, though, or preschool. I was always just a lost-at-sea sort of person who couldn't find a clue about what made other people tick. I'm still hermitly by nature, though I think I do quite well relating one-on-one and in small groups of like-minded people.

Can I win the idiot prize of the day?

I just spent an hour outside waiting for the AAA man because...wait for it...I parked my car, opened the door, locked the doors and went home - only to realize once I reached my front door that I did not have my keys. They were still in the car. And the car was still running.

Duh!

No sweetie, you can't have that prize, not even for the day. Too many of us have done that same thing, or something as or more idiotic, for that to stand out as more than mildly absentminded. Sorry.

I just spent an hour outside waiting for the AAA man because...wait for it...I parked my car, opened the door, locked the doors and went home - only to realize once I reached my front door that I did not have my keys. They were still in the car. And the car was still running.

Aw, that's nothing. You should ask my parents (and their checkbook) about the time I lost my car keys in '91. I looked everywhere and couldn't find them. We had builders putting on an addition to the house, and I, in a panic, halted all work and sent them on a quest to comb all 2 acres of land to find my precious keys. An hour later, the keys were found underneath my purse, in the house. I swore they weren't there when I looked initially. My father was less than pleased, both at the expense and my stupidity.

t grabs idiot prize of the last 15 years

Edited to remove a stealth apostrophe. Those things are always hanging around where they're not needed.

Applauding Bev's ginormous meara. Again, the post type, not the lovely person.

I went to a preschool at a university, which gave the education students the chance to study us little apes adorable preschoolers in action. On the day of my mom's parent conference, I found a door I'd never seen before, went through it, and discovered the two-way mirror, behind which my mother and the teacher were sitting, torn between amusement and dismay.

I talked early. My mother swears I sang "Happy birt-day to me" on my first birthday. And then my brother didn't talk until two and a half, but Mom swears I talked for him: "Charlie wants milk, Mommy," etc. He was apparently happy to let me translate for a while.