Amy assures me that a lynch mob is forming, so I'd better write to stave off the impending doom. Wow, it has been too, too long, and it seems like only a few blog entries ago I was saying the same thing. I guess that's the way with creative things, the muse comes and goes; not that this blog is anything so creative that it could be attributed to a muse - maybe an imp, but not a muse.
Where to begin? Josh gave us a few scares in the last couple of weeks, but that's starting to become old hat. I don't know where, and I don't know why he got the notion that the best and most wonderful way to leave any sort of elevated location, be it a couch, a bed, stairs, is "head first," but he can't seem to drop the idea, even though we've repeatedly insisted that it's not a very good idea. I'll be standing there not watching to closely, and next thing I know, two dirty little feet (Josh attracts dirt as though he were the Mecca of Dust) are pointing up in the air, the rest of their owner somewhere hidden beyond the edge of the couch, the bed, whatever.
Recently, Josh acquired some new head gear in the form of a huge bump on his forehead. He was playing in the front entry and suddenly let loose one of those screams that let you know that there is a real problem. We don't know what happened, but he had a bump that grew from the size of a marble to the size of a golf ball in a matter of minutes. We put some ice on it and went on concusion watch, but we have no idea exactly how he got it; maybe he took one of his head dives off of the front steps. The bump went away fairly quickly, leaving only a light bruise, but a couple of days later, he fell out the front door of Gramma's door (never trust that the screen door is latched shut before you run at it full speed, relying upon it to support you) and as fate would have it, landed right on the same bump on his head, making it look twice as bad. That put us on concusion watch again. He's doing fine, though.
Ben is starting soccer tomorrow. After all of the promises and insistence that she would never be a "soccer mom," poor Amy has acquired the appellation (maybe someday Ben will break through her insistence that we will never have pets). Ben is really excited, and this is at his request. It isn't anything advanced; this is more of a program to get kids familiar with kicking a ball around, and I think it is great. I hope that Ben enjoys it once he's there, and I think the exercise will be good for him. He's such a little man, so capable of doing so many things. He's an excellent artist, he's starting to learn to read, and he looks great in a pair of shades that we bought for him. Heh heh; I remember the day he got those. Amy and the boys picked me up for lunch, and when I turned around to look at Ben, he peeked around the middle seat, wearing his dark shades, looking super cool; he even had that nonchalant, "eh, whatever," face that all the really cool people are good at. Ben's a great kid, and I sure love him.
And then there's Joseph. Such cuteness ought to be a crime. He has a way of looking at you, eyes wide open, almost as though he were struck with awe at how wonderful you are, and it just strikes you to the core. Then, he smiles at you, and you melt. Man, he's cute. I play peek-a-boo with him every now and then, and he condescends to giggle (or at least smirk) at me, which makes me feel like a good daddy. It's just, he just looks at you like you're doing a good job, and he appreciates it, and your his best, greatest friend in the whole wide world. How else can I describe it? He's really developing, too. He can hold his head up, and roll over; I don't think that he realizes, yet, that he now has the power of locomotion, and we're not in a hurry to tell him, but we're going to have to start vacuuming our rooms far more often than we do now.
Well, I sure hope that I can do a better job of keeping this blog up to date; maybe my imp has returned from wherever he has been hiding for the last couple of weeks.
10:19:35 PM 
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