So we celebrated T's birthday this morning with a beautiful walk through Roger Williams Park on a glorious day. Felt like fall. I wanted to kick the hell out of Georgia only two times, then I followed John's advice to drop the leash. After this advice, my life is turned around. When it was time to pick up the leash, The Rottens came right to me and someone commented on how well behaved they are. You talking to me?
Got home and rested the rest of the day. Growing a baby is hard work.
When John came home from work, the three of us went blueberry picking. The blueberries were slim pickin' but we managed to rustle up a pound and paid our $1.40 and were on our way.
I begged John to stop at Newport Creamery and we did. So now this is our tradition for T's birthday - blueberry picking and Newport Creamery.
As a special treat, T went to bed an hour late after eating one whole big piece of a chicken quesadilla and a spoonful of plain sour cream, he still said "Eat, eat. Crack-ur." as he got placed into his crib. It's all a lie, because we take him to his booster seat to feed him and he'll eat the tiniest little bite ever.
Hopefully he's finally asleep. Oh, no, he's not. I hear the wailing of a two-year-old. Poor thing.
John is at the bar trying to find the painter to paint the house, Amadeus is laying on the mini Sponge Bob couch and Gigi has settled into the futon.
Me, I have a new Real World to watch.