I will be content if no Buffistas make the national news.
In related subjects, I dreamed this morning that Tom Scola martyred himself for the cause of Ukrainian independence, in a particularly nasty area of street-fighting. I think I was actually listening to a Beeb report about Kosovo's declaring independence, and the fact that Russia doesn't like it, but... somehow that turned into sitting around a hotel conference room in a slavic country reading news reports and watching TV waiting for a glimpse of people we knew.
Scola, please don't martyr yourself! We prefer you alive. Ukraine doesn't need any more independence anyway.
Scola, please don't martyr yourself!
OK, I'll try not to, I guess.
I can haz crawling?
(Holy fuck we REALLY need some baby gates...)
That would be offal.
I lack the mental acuity to appreciate puns. I think this means that I should start snacking on your brains first.
And he can go forward! (D couldn't at first. Kept ending up stuck under the couch with only the top of his head sticking out.)
He's a charmer, Jess.
Oh, Jess, the videos kill me. And he's all, "Why is Daddy WAY UP THERE, damn it?"
Baby gates are probably a go, yeah. Cutiehead.
OK, you know what I hate? When the "hotline" that's supposed to help me figure out this inscrutable government website keeps hanging up on me. I mean, seriously. WTF, government??
Yeah, all babies go backwards first - it's easier to push back with your arms than the other way around, I guess. Forward mobility is pretty exciting! And scary!
He's plenty slow still. You probably have a few days before the OMG emergency baby gate run - so plan ahead, and get them this weekend!
Speaking of baby-proofing, this article in the NYT cracked me up: [link]
The people who had to remove their designer chairs with "razor-sharp edges" when they had a kid... what about before they had kids, when regular old klutzy people like me came to visit? Or do they only have graceful friends?
