I'm back. The last month has included: seven thousand deadlines, the high holidays, an office move, peak gardening season, another rabbit, and Joe's first visit from the tooth fairy (who should have gone to the bank for a stash of crisp one dollar bills at the first sign of a wiggly tooth, but instead waited until the tooth came out at 9:30 last night, and had to make do with a five dollar bill, which was so thrilling that the tooth fairy was awakened from a deep sleep at 3:00 a.m. for a high volume news update.) I've been careening from one thing to another like a billiard ball, but less smoothly. It's not just me; everyone in my office is operating on overdrive. I've decided on the perfect office move gift: I'm going to decorate brown paper lunch bags with the Depression Center logo, and pass them out (as it were) when people start to hyperventilate. But I feel much better now that I've had a chance to complain a little.
In other news, Joe is developing his sense of style. He dressed for bed last night in his pajamas that look like long underwear with a pirate motif; maps and ships and treasure chests and such. Over these, he donned a red t-shirt with a picture of a dragon, and sporty blue and green exercise shorts. He looked like a little bitty hockey player—and this morning, he had the missing tooth to complete the look. He's also planning to force his lovely curly hair to be straight by growing it long. Instead of growing down, like my bone-straight hair would, his hair in growing out, and then flopping over like a wilting wildflower. He looks like Einstein would, if Einstein were six years old and (in my, correct, opinion) adorable.