Oh my gosh I've got a lot of catching up to do. I've got about eight posts started that I just haven't finished because a) I'm training for a marathon again which makes me constantly sleepy; b) I'm stupid - see a; c) There's four seasons of Felicity out there and since I have a terrible memory re-watching it is like watching a whole new show, except I do have the same distinct feeling of anxiety waiting for her hair to grow out again; and d) How exactly does one start a post about how one's mother told her she doesn't know where her underwear comes from - it just appears in her drawers looking the way one's mother's boyfriend wants them to look?
Anyway, I know no one wants to hear about James and the shower and blah, blah, blah, but he's stopped doing it. He now just sits dutifully on the toilet (lid up or down, doesn't matter, that's where he sits) (and consequently, that's where he falls into at least once a week). Except! Except today he decided to try it out again, climbed right on in and (here's where it gets good) proceed to bat at/attack the bubbles from my soapy runoff. Like he was pouncing all over the tub, so much so that I had to back away for a while so he could get a pesky bubble that was floating away from him. CUTEST DAMN THING EVER. I swear to god, my unborn children have a lot of f-ing cute to live up to.
Here's a photo from Catalina just to let you know what sort of things I'll be posting in the upcoming week. I call it, "But they got bigger too! Why shouldn't we test them out?"