There's talk of Zoey coming home this weekend. That's excellent news, of course, but it means home life right now is more chaotic than a black hole's event horizon.
Hence, the cricket chirping lack of blogging as of late. It's hard to blog when you're chasing a 19-month-old around the house, telling him not to spit Ritz Bits bolus on the rugs and/or couch.
So, while I'll continue to blog for as long as Mu.Nu allows, for now the preemie chapter of the last four months is coming to a close.
As Monk would say: "It's a blessing. . . and a curse."
Last night, my wife returned from the hospital around 3 a.m., and she went outside to hide plastic Easter eggs around the house. Thankfully, today was Easter, otherwise such behavior would have warranted a call to the guys in the white coats.
Anyway, this morning as my boy was eating breakfast, I glanced outside and could have sworn I saw a yellow plastic Easter egg darting across the lawn. I did a double-take and realized the egg was being carried by a squirrel. This struck me as odd behavior, until my wife told me she had placed crackers and other snacks in the eggs.
Oh.
Apparently, squirrels have teeth perfectly adapted to gnawing through plastic Easter eggs, which is a point in favor of the intelligent design argument, if you ask me. Evolution just isn't plausible enough to cover mandibles capable of shredding plastic Easter eggs. And, yes, for you nattering couch fainters who think I'm being serious. . . that was a JOKE. A funny. Relax.
All told, squirrels made off with six or seven plastic eggs, retreating to the safety of the trees to saw through the plastic and retrieve their prize. They then dropped the empty plastic shells on the ground with all the ceremonious dignity of a walnut husk.
Thankfully, our boy was still delighted to find even the hollowed out shells, so at least there was no lasting psychological damage.
That I'm aware of, anyway.
