“It's the inflation story, it's there and it's got implications going forward.”*

Dudes, my brain is mush. I have a gigantor book post to write, about good stuff I have been reading and what I have lined up, but I. CAN'T. THINK. And, well, I have to go play Scramble on Facebook. And, what, I can't hear you, I have a baby attached to my boob. So, here, have some photos:

This is the boys' second day of getting their own breakfast. I like that someone even went out on the porch and retrieved the newspaper.

I know it LOOKS like he is worshiping the cake, but really, he didn't even like it all that much. A chocolate Guinness cake is probably best reserved for the adults from now on. (What? He liked it at the St Pat's party! And the alcohol bakes out!)

One of the most successful presents (I had to peel it off him today and insist on washing it). Although Seg is my boy whom, if I wrapped up an old rag and a bar of used soap, he'd hug me, tell me he loved me, and say thanks. (And then he'd ask his dad what the hell...)

These are all the boys from Seg's preschool class walking home from school today, to our house for Seg's cupcake party. At the top of the steps, Seg turned to his followers and said, "Now, everybody, we'll see my brother Terzo. Be nice to him. And remember, he's littler than you, so if you hit him, let him hit you back."

I am not permitted to vacuum the house ever again. Just in case. Damn Germans.

Note to anyone who has ever, or will ever attend a five-year-old's birthday party: This? Should have been left on the shelf. Thanks, M! WHAT were you thinking, woman?! Am I not ENOUGH of a nervous wreck?

I leave you with cute baby socks! Well, I would have but he twisted and turned and stuck out his tongue and stretched, just before he let out an enormous fart, and moved, and the camera clicked. So here's my living room rug.


Here, here are the cute socks:

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*Drew Matus, Lehman Brothers