chatter (from within the walls of our unsold house)

Well, I had grand aspirations (as I sometimes do) of writing another whimsical, loving, over-the-top gusher of a post for our boy on the occasion of his second birthday, and damn it, I just didn't. It was going to be mushy, too. We had four house showings this weekend, among the other normal exhaustions, and I just didn't do it. We did have cupcakes, however, which our neighbors and their three adorable kiddos joined us for (thanks, guys!), and we took Eli to the children's museum in downtown Houston for the afternoon, which he was quite freaked out by at first, I must say, but after we saw fit to take him away from the ginormous robot made out of junkyard telephones, he was fine.

And as if by magic, now that he is the ripe age of two, he talks much more and seems to have sprouted at least a foot taller overnight. I guess that could just be our imagination. But he definitely wants in on our conversations more, which these days are mainly made of up lamentations over not having sold our house yet and how we are out of coffee creamer, which is the case this morning. But his interjections make our conversations better and make us forget that we are adults with adult responsibilities, especially when he says, "Ma-ma, Da-da, I lwovve you" and "Wait," finger poised in the air, "be back," running away to tend to an obviously very important matter. And -- he says his own name: Ah-ny, and bangs his chest proudly. And all of this makes us lose our defenses and parentalness and grown-up-ed-ness and needs to have the carpet remain unstained -- and we simply love him with everything we have. And then, he pours his juice on the carpet.

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Did I mention we have no coffee creamer? Skim milk in coffee looks like some scientific mixture of water, water, and a little bit of something brown. I'm going to dump it down the drain right now. I will have to find alternative means of caffeinating myself today. Maybe I'll spring for a Starbuck's on the way to my gynecologist appointment.