Or I do...I broke a toe a few months ago. It hurt like...well it hurt a really lot and I am pretty sure I said some very very bad words when it happened. Apparently I am utterly graceless.
Et voila:
LAST NIGHT:post-Milo bathtime. I stub my toe on this hideous wicker mini-trunk in my bedroom. Collapse onto bed cursing. (it was the s-word this time not the f-word. I consider that improvement)
Said 'ow ow ow' about six million times. Go downstairs to get Milo's Tigger ice pack. Come back up, still in discomfort. Give in to Milo's demands for the Tigger ice pack he has previously hated; so that Milo can pretend that HIS foot hurts.
I am not generally a shy person. Generally I have no problem talking with strangers if I have to. I mean to say that I am mostly the type of person to strike up a convo with a cab driver, but not the person next to me on the bus.
So, I read Mrs. Katy's blog here. I think she's great. I admire her immensely. A recent post of hers involved her parents, both very artistic people. I for some reason felt like sending Mr. Knudsen a message of gratitude. And to give him a shout-out for the five people that read this blog.
Please go look at Katy's dad (Kurt Knudsen)'s Etsy shop here. I pretty much want every single thing there. I really enjoy his crooked style.
I am pretty sure that right now my toe is NOT broken, and that my son is in his bed completely nude. He decided last night that his new footie pajamas were hurting him. When I checked on his last night, he had totally removed his pjs and was fast asleep.
I hear , 'yeahyeayaaayaaaa' faintly through our shared wall. This usually means he is diaper-less. I really hope he hasn't peed.
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