Did you hear me? He doesn't like STROLLERS!
He doesn't like sitting in strollers; he doesn't like walking in strollers; he doesn't like RUNNING in strollers; and, as far as I know, he doesn't like LOOKING at strollers.
Babies like strollers. They like outside. They like to be OUTSIDE in STROLLERS! It's their favorite thing.
I keep telling Jesse this.
He doesn't understand.
In other news:
I was reading my book last night and wondering why it was covered in orange stuff.
Orange stuff on the inside cover. Orange stuff on the edges of the pages. Orange smears here and there on pages.
Well, I wasn't wondering like, "How on earth could orange stuff get on my book . . . my NEW book?!" That would be a ridiculous thing for a mother of five children under nine to wonder.
I was wondering more like, "What is this orange stuff? Cheetos? Or . . . gritty markers . . . maybe? Or . . . ? And when did this happen? It was clean when I was last reading."
Then I had a flash back.
It was just like in a movie where someone is trying to solve the mystery of their mysterious past (you know, when they can't remember their past and then they remember it in tiny tidbits here and there that eventually help them to solve the mystery of their . . . present? I guess).
I saw Penny sitting on the couch the previous night with a book.
Then it flashed to me saying, "Mike, look how cute. Penny is just sitting there reading my book -- even though it has no pictures! She seems totally interested in it!" (Interested in getting it orange, you are thinking).
Then, like in the movies, where the flashbacks don't all occur in the right order, I flashed back to earlier in the evening -- we were eating spaghetti for dinner.
Then I flashed to getting her out of her highchair . . . and removing her bib . . . and WHAT!!?? My flash was disrupted the minute I remembered. Like in slow motion I saw: setting -- her -- down -- with -- out -- washing -- her -- hands. NOOOO!!!
And then of course, it all made perfect sense. The mystery was solved, and I knew that there was no chance that hands that orange could have only gotten to my book, and I wondered where to start looking for more orange stains.
Do you like how I broke things into so so many little paragraphs today? It was for effect -- special effect . . . or maybe affect. I can't remember.
The real end.