Out of Gas

I may not ever get caught up on my pictures. Today I ran around like crazy doing laundry, embroidery, delivering shirts to Mike, etc. Now I'm just tired. Mike went next door with Eric and Renee to watch the Jazz game (we don't have TNT). I'm glad I'm not watching. The officials ruin the game, and I'd rather just hear about it when it's over. Anyhow, I was 30 minutes late to my YW activity because Will touched a hot pan (hot enough to hurt, but not hot enough to damage), and the only way we could calm him down was to give him a bath. He was totally happy in the tub until I washed his hair, and then he started screaming. The water wasn't very warm because we wanted to sooth his hand, but then he wouldn't stop screaming until I nursed him. Then I had to get Sam out of the tub and in his jammies, and when I was done doing that Will was ready to go to bed, so I put him down. When I got home from my activity (at 9:00), Sam was still up and the kitchen hadn't been cleaned up from dinner. I put the food away as everyone was leaving to go watch the Jazz game, and then I put Sam to bed. I'm done. Pictures will have to wait until...a less strenuous day than today.

Sidenote: Eric and Renee decided it's time to make their own way in the world, so they're moving into their own apartment in about a week. They'll have a pool, tennis, racquetball, and lots of other fun stuff, so we'll probably spend a lot of time there this summer. We're thinking a pool party for Will's birthday.

Sam says the most hilarious stuff all the time. I need to walk around with a pen and paper because I can never remember it all. The other day I actually had the presence of mind to write a couple of things down:

[We upgraded to a 4-slice toaster]
Sam: Do we have two toasters?
Mom: Yeah.
Sam: Oh, that's better than having one.

[Sometimes Sam gets the cookie cutters out and plays with them, which includes making them talk to each other]
Sam: Here Mom, you be this cookie cutter. He can talk. He says better things than you.

It rained a lot today. As we were looking out the window at the wet dreariness:
Sam: Is it raining?
Mom: Yup.
Sam: Oh, is it a terrible day?