In a little while from now....things get complicated. I entered the 12th year of my marriage and the 3rd year of motherhood amid a bit of chaos and worry. Our little guy isn't talking as much as he should. He's brilliant and perfect and the apple of our eye. But we're teachers and we know about strange random things called benchmarks and milestones. So when he didn't start using as many words as we thought he should, we started to worry. Then as we moved toward those awfully fun tests and questionnaires, we really started to worry. We had already enrolled him in pre-school and I felt the need explain my sweet one's inability or lack of desire to speak in sentences. I over-compensated--as usual. My precocious bear is a force of nature with a mop of unruly dark blond hair and bright blue eyes. He has blue specs (his glasses) and a little dent in his chin. He is constantly chattering away and has now begun to string those little thoughts together. When I don't understand him, he becomes frustrated. I become frustrated. I can only grab him, hold him and wait for him to try again.

Tonight I haven't been a good mama. I've been very cool, but not good. It is my last night of summer vacation, as I return to work the day after tomorrow. But alas, tonight we had grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and Zebra Cakes for dessert. My little one continues to play with my wisks--brushin his har, and I gave him a Coca Cola Classic in a bottle with a straw. Nevermind that I/we are watching the fantazmagoraphobic film "House of Haunted Hill" with Vincent Price. He is less impressed than he should be, but I was a weird kid. Tonight we forget that fall approaches with school and work. We brush our hair with mom's whisks; we drink REAL Coke.