I’m too old to really hate any team or any player, because life is complex, and everyone has good in there somewhere, etc. But I hate A-Rod and all that he stands for. And the thought that my sweet little boy wants to emulate him makes me want to stick fondue forks in my ears until they meet in the middle.

The Otter is watching Dora (more on that later) and, out of nowhere, turns to me and says, “My bum, Mama!”

me: your bum?

she: Yeah! It’s in my diaper!

me: ???

Just as I start thinking that I am a terrible parent because I suggested she watch “the video about the potty”, I snap out of it. My motives are not pure; I don’t want to play with the farm anymore and instead I want to knit. I know that she will watch that damn dvd over and over, and sit on her potty in the living room with that incessant song playing until my ears bleed. But how precious am I? Will she need therapy because she watched preschool motivational videos while Mama knit– a gift for a friend of hers, by the way?

Oops, gotta go. Round one of flushing has begun.

When one is spinning, or running in circles, it is called “arounding”, as in, “Look, Mama, I’m arounding!”