Where I Complain and Jethro Does Something About It

Two teenagers I have now. I know, I know. I had to drop both of them off early at school this morning, one for a test and the other, I highly suspect, to meet a boy. The traffic was bad, it was foggy, and I made sure to complain about it to Jethro who had gotten to spend those extra minutes all cozy in bed with the baby.

"Awwww," he said, sympathetically. "You deserve a reward." And proceeds to whip it out.

Is it weird that kind of thing works on me?

In other news, I would like to stop nursing the baby. I am pretty much over it. I've bonded. I swear. But I'm a little afraid she's going to be one of those nursing 6 year olds. She likes it so much. One glimpse of boob and she claps her hands and growls, "NUMEH!!!!" Which is, of course, hilarious.

She says lots of words now, and not all of them swear words! Actually none of them are swear words, but they do sound like them. For instance, "Whats that? sounds very much like "Oh shit!" And "fish" is pretty much "bitch."

She's a fun baby. Demanding, but fun. She thinks she's Miss America. She smiles and waves at everyone who looks at her and says "Hi!" in a charming little baby voice. She does this at the clinic with every patient who walks in. That can't be bad for business.

She's also kind of small for her age. She's not scrawny, just short and light. Her baby fat is fluffy, not dense. She also doesn't have a lot of hair which makes her look like a very dexterous, articulate infant instead of the wobbly, almost toddler she is. But she's fun. Her sisters are very proud of her. Their cell phone cameras are filled with pictures of her. No selfies, just Charley. It's sweet.