First Words

This is one of those posts I'm writing because I want to record the moment lest I forget in my toddler induced dementia.

Kaycie read her first book to me on Saturday.

I won't lie, she freaked me out.

I'd read Biscuit to her only once but it had gone with her to her grandparents' house a time or two where they had read it 3 or 4 times according to my mom.

She brought it to me to read and after the first page she started reading it to me. I followed along the words with my finger and she got every one right up to the last two pages.Yesterday she brought it out while my in-laws were her and sat at her table by herself and read it again.

We bought several of these first reader books a few weeks ago since she was going to start having an interest soon but I wasn't expecting it quite so soon.

Yes, I realize she was mostly reading from the pictures, but that's a first step in learning to recognize the repetitive words in the early readers. It's shows motivation and a readiness to start the process a little bit.

I'm more than a little proud of her and her eagerness to read. I can't imagine where she gets her love of books. Oh, wait...

7 Year Itch

So that last post reminded me that at the end of September Greg and I will be celebrating our 6 year anniversary.  That gives me one year to get tired of him and find a lover boy.

Honestly, who has the time or energy for that?

Greg also pointed out a while back that he read an article on Yahoo (which makes it totally true) claiming that spouses now hit the 7 year in itch in 5 years thanks to social media making it so much easier to be in contact with old boyfriends and other men you otherwise wouldn't be hanging out with. I am friends with none of my exes on Facebook, nor do I follow any on Twitter. None have tried to friend or follow me. Pretty sure I have interest in repeating the past. Ever. And there's only one I'd even care to know is still alive, but not enough to go looking for him. Guess that leaves me on the 7 year schedule.

I fear I have my work cut out for me. I like my husband. A lot. He's fun. And considerate. And a great daddy. And he eats my cooking. And never expects me to drive. He doesn't criticize much of anything about me, even when he could  He laughs at me, a lot, but always for the right things. He shows appreciation for things I do not just for him but for the kids. We have a million things in common, from things we like to eat to the nerdy things we watch on TV.

How am I supposed to find another guy I like this month in the next year? It took 30 years to find Greg! I'm going to be such a failure.

It's Monday

I was in the shower yesterday when I noticed the tag on my washcloth said it's supposed to be washed in the delicate cycle.

I have never, in the six years since we got these washcloths as wedding gifts, washed them in the delicate cycle. I can say with some certainty that I will never wash them in the delicate cycle.

Having had some time to contemplate that, I'm left to wonder if I haven't caused my poor washcloths irreparable mental anguish over the years. They specifically requested special delicate treatment and I responded by throwing them in the regular cycle with all the other riff raff laundry. Have they suffered in silence all these years, begging me to stop the torture? Probably.

I feel kind of bad for them now. And I suspect our towels, which match, have the same instructions. Today I am forced to admit that not only am I so very much not perfect, I've actually brought harm, albeit without intent, to members of my own household.

That won't lead me to wash them on the delicate cycle, unless I'm washing something else and need some filler to make it tumble correctly.

I'm a monster.