I swear that I did blog earlier this week--a charming little post, lost to the hellbeasts of Typepad, about how Connery is now demanding that we "build" a baby sister for him so that he can name her Susie. Don't ask. Also not worth asking about is how I managed to short-circuit a full-blown tantrum by invoking not imaginary poultry but our mutual hatred of Anthony Newley and his love for Ethel Merman.
Seth Rudetsky, you are corrupting my child!
In other news, it's freakin' cold here, but I can't be too upset about it. It's Montana in the winter! It's supposed to be cold! I just wish it would give us some serious snow, because this cold and icy without any snow is no fun at all.
On Sunday, we took Connery ice skating for the first time. It was, coincidentally, the first time Chip or I had been on ice skates in close to a decade. Can I just say here that I used to be a pretty good skater? I don't want to brag, but I was in an ice show or two in my day. (As a munchkin, but who's keeping track?) To say that I am no longer a good skater would be vastly overstating my abilities. Frankly, it's amazing that I didn't break something. Still, after about 45 minutes, I got to the point of being able to skate both forwards and backwards (wobbly-ly) enough to teach Connery the fundamentals. I had a good time. Chip was almost immediately stricken by foot pain intense enough to require lightning-fast skate removal. Perhaps this is not the whole-family activity we're looking for.
I'll try to do another update later.