Be nice to our
timprov, for it is his birthday, and he is now old. Ancient. Practically doddering. One foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. Etc.
(He's now the same age as I am, which, for those of you not keeping score at home, is 26.)
Last night he opened his presents from us and
porphyrin's crew, and he seemed to like them and is reading one of the books even now. (Robin, handing him a wrapped present of suspicious size and shape: "Open dis book!" Me: "Surprise!") He also is now the proud possessor of a miniature Wild Thing. We thought Roo was asking him if that was his mother. Ummm, no. He was asking whether it was his monster. Whew. (We were also treated to the extremely diverting saga of How The Door Snake Lost Its Head. I tell ya, Kipling only wished he had this kid's plots.)
Okay. Back to attacking Melvin The Laundry Monster and other list items.
(He's now the same age as I am, which, for those of you not keeping score at home, is 26.)
Last night he opened his presents from us and
Okay. Back to attacking Melvin The Laundry Monster and other list items.