Just a few quick things-

This is me not packing for our quickie weekend getaway (not from the child, she's coming too) to my cousin's house a couple of hours away. I expect lots of nachos, cute kids (my cousin has two), trips to Target, Once Upon a Child, Anthro, and other stores that are generally unavailable to me. (I know. My town is so small it still doesn't have a Target, just stupid Walmart. As a friend once said, "lucky Joe.") 

Oh, and I'm sure wine will be part of the picture, too.

Since I'm a little crazy spontaneous, I decided to catch a ride out east in twoish weeks to NY. For like two days. And I'm taking Grace. And I'm sure it will totally be worth it. My bff is making a quick trip home to see her parents, and I'm keeping up my end of our pact that we'll only go back at the same time. Luckily, my mom was heading that direction anyway, and now I'll get to see my padre as well. Wins all around! (except Joe, who will be home. On second thought, it will probs be way too much girl time for even his patient self to endure)

obviously thrilled at the idea of being in her carseat for so long.
obviously will thank me when she's 15 for posting this.

On third thought, maybe Joe is the winner after all.

Speaking of Joe, last night he fell asleep on the couch while we watched Office reruns and I stalked you all on facebook/your blogs/played Boggle on his phone. When I ran out of internet and got bored making up words, I woke him to say that I was going to bed. He then repeatedly mumbled something several times before I could make out the words, "Where are the pieces?" 

"Pieces of what?" I queried, not seeing anything in our immaculate (ha!) living room that was broken. 

His response: "The pieces of your heart. I mean, your hand."

hmmmm. Not sure why my heart or hand are in pieces, but apparently I told him to ask. 

(clever segue)

Recently, I added a few prayers to Grace's bedtime routine so that she knows what one sounds like other than the prayer before meals and when I plead, "Lord, beer me strength," and "Serenity NOW." I noticed that she'd smile when I'd go into the Our Father, and was happy that she wasn't telling me no and trying to get away. The other day, she interrupted the book I was reading and asked to pray. Since she was so adamant, I put her book on the shelf and started in, all the while my heart warming at the thought of my pious little toddler and her mother's obviously wonderful parenting. She rewarded me with a huge smile as I began, and around the time I got to "who art in heaven," she started belly laughing. Like, serious, all out unconstrained hysterically laughing. 

at least the laughing here was warranted, thanks to my tickling her

I'm not entirely sure of the theological implications, but it seems that somehow, somewhere, something went awry.