Last night, Willem went into Boston for a hockey game. I swear that he has told me three times who played, and I still can't remember. Bad sportswife, I know. Only reason I can remember who's in the Superbowl is that I went to high school with a guy on the Seahawks and I've been in the Pittsburgh airport.

Anyway, he gets home at 1:00 in the morning, and I'm still sitting on the couch, chatting online and eating chocolate and watching some "mean people doing bad things" show, and generally just blissful. I had planned on doing typing work for the evening, but when my computer committed technologicide at the end of December I lost all my passwords, including to the FTP site where the to-be-transcribed files live, so instead of earning money I was forced to watch people whom I consider friends though we've never met argue and fight and generally irritate each other. It was both fun (I do love drama when I'm not the central figure) and horrible (estrogen is seriously self-destructive stuff). All in all a good way to spend an evening alone.

So Willem gets home and we both try and rapid-fire our days at each other before we all fall asleep in a big pile. He wanders into the kitchen, grabs the milk, and is about to take a big swig from the container. I level my very best Stop That You Ingrate look at him, and he offers up his best "What? Me??" look. I explained to him that there are certain barbaric behaviors which I really, really need to pretend don't happen in my house. That ranks right up there with bringing the phone into the bathroom and picking his teeth with the toes of Emily's Barbies. Ignorance is bliss. Really.

Speaking of the bathroom, moments of hilarity ensued when we headed in to have a group teeth-brushing and he used the toilet as well. Unfortunately I can't remember WHY it was funny. Just, trust me, it was.

Jacob has suddenly leapt from no words at all to complete sentences - which is only a surprise to me because I predicted it and since when do my predictions ever come true?? Today's was "Where did it go?" spoken with ovary-swelling cuteness and serious toddler intensity.

And not to be outdone, in the car on the way to dinner tonight, Emily was talking about doing arts and crafts in school, and Willem felt the need to pester her little brain with, "How come it's arts and crafts? Do you ever just do arts? How about crafts? Maybe just and?" Her response: "Dad, I don't understand what you're talking about. Can you ask me when I'm older?"