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Oh, look, we got an invitation, cool! Tadpole has been invited to Ava Gardner's birthday party. Wait. What? Oh. No, it's not a joke. Parents, I ask you: what were you thinking?
My Birthday was good, BTW. Thank you so much for all the good wishes and thesympathy congratulations.
I had breakfast in bed, yum! when Husband brought me a lovely cappuccino and croissants; and then I had breakfast IN BED, WAH! with many crumbles and half the cup of hot cappuccino unexpectedly landing on my bare belly when Froglet jumped about on the bouncy mattress.
And we went to see Mamma Mia (the Abba musical) and I loved it, because I knew most of the songs and happily sang along (sorry, dear people sitting next to me, but being allowed to sing is a rare treat. More often than not, I can't sing because Tadpole will scream like a banshee until I shut up. And it's my birthday, see? So I don't care that you have paid to listen to the cast and not to me. Just be thankful no-one gave me a microphone.) And it had lots of naked guys on guys, OMG!!!!! Thank you, Nny! Only they were perched on each other's shoulders, but still, NAKED! OMG! save for teeny bathing suits and big diving fins (ever seen guys dance with diving fins? Well, it involves a lot of awkwardly trying not to walk on your own feet).
And at the end, during the last musical numbers, we were all dancing and hopping happily, when Husband suddenly panicked. "Stop dancing", he hissed. "We're going to FALL DOWN! DOOM!" I stopped for a second, and lo, the balcony was trembling and shaking and quaking under my feet, wah! I kindly refrained from objecting that my stopping wouldn't affect the situation much, as I was only one rhythmically bouncing buffalo among many, and then he bellowed "resonance!" into my ears and we both went all white and clung to each other like Hansel and Gretel in a Swedish forest and hoped for the best. In the middle of Dancing Queen. *headthunk*.
My advice: go see Mamma Mia BEFORE you study physics. Or buy a seat in the orchestra.
In other news, Froglet has one less tooth. She complained that her teeth hurt, I took her to the dentist, who had one good look and said, well, it's up to her, really.
I'm not going into the rest in details, but it involved much blood, sweat and tears. Froglet did the bleeding and the crying, the dentist and I sweated, as he pulled on the tooth and I clinged to my sanity and her hand, and tried not to faint, and repeated over and over "almost done, sweetpea, almost done" with a big phony smile on my face.
She had Sparks enrolment ceremony afterwards, which was a BLOODY GOOD THING since it allowed her to show off the big bloody gap in her mouth and the tiny tooth in a plastic box. And the visit from the Tooth Fairy helped, too ;)
And Tadpole is being the busiest three-year-old devil I have ever seen. Yesterday, at the Art Garage, she painted her nose black. It went off, partially, when I washed her face: she now has a Very Blue Nose. She also cut a wide hole into her pants. With scissors. They are teaching her to use scissors. WTF? Frankly, I whish no-one would show her these things, not until she is, oh, 18 or 20 years old. No, really. The sticky tape was bad enough.
But then, of course, Froglet already knows all these things. So we are doomed. DOOOOOOOOOMED! wah!
My Birthday was good, BTW. Thank you so much for all the good wishes and the
I had breakfast in bed, yum! when Husband brought me a lovely cappuccino and croissants; and then I had breakfast IN BED, WAH! with many crumbles and half the cup of hot cappuccino unexpectedly landing on my bare belly when Froglet jumped about on the bouncy mattress.
And we went to see Mamma Mia (the Abba musical) and I loved it, because I knew most of the songs and happily sang along (sorry, dear people sitting next to me, but being allowed to sing is a rare treat. More often than not, I can't sing because Tadpole will scream like a banshee until I shut up. And it's my birthday, see? So I don't care that you have paid to listen to the cast and not to me. Just be thankful no-one gave me a microphone.) And it had lots of naked guys on guys, OMG!!!!! Thank you, Nny! Only they were perched on each other's shoulders, but still, NAKED! OMG! save for teeny bathing suits and big diving fins (ever seen guys dance with diving fins? Well, it involves a lot of awkwardly trying not to walk on your own feet).
And at the end, during the last musical numbers, we were all dancing and hopping happily, when Husband suddenly panicked. "Stop dancing", he hissed. "We're going to FALL DOWN! DOOM!" I stopped for a second, and lo, the balcony was trembling and shaking and quaking under my feet, wah! I kindly refrained from objecting that my stopping wouldn't affect the situation much, as I was only one rhythmically bouncing buffalo among many, and then he bellowed "resonance!" into my ears and we both went all white and clung to each other like Hansel and Gretel in a Swedish forest and hoped for the best. In the middle of Dancing Queen. *headthunk*.
My advice: go see Mamma Mia BEFORE you study physics. Or buy a seat in the orchestra.
In other news, Froglet has one less tooth. She complained that her teeth hurt, I took her to the dentist, who had one good look and said, well, it's up to her, really.
I'm not going into the rest in details, but it involved much blood, sweat and tears. Froglet did the bleeding and the crying, the dentist and I sweated, as he pulled on the tooth and I clinged to my sanity and her hand, and tried not to faint, and repeated over and over "almost done, sweetpea, almost done" with a big phony smile on my face.
She had Sparks enrolment ceremony afterwards, which was a BLOODY GOOD THING since it allowed her to show off the big bloody gap in her mouth and the tiny tooth in a plastic box. And the visit from the Tooth Fairy helped, too ;)
And Tadpole is being the busiest three-year-old devil I have ever seen. Yesterday, at the Art Garage, she painted her nose black. It went off, partially, when I washed her face: she now has a Very Blue Nose. She also cut a wide hole into her pants. With scissors. They are teaching her to use scissors. WTF? Frankly, I whish no-one would show her these things, not until she is, oh, 18 or 20 years old. No, really. The sticky tape was bad enough.
But then, of course, Froglet already knows all these things. So we are doomed. DOOOOOOOOOMED! wah!
