Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Grandparents are going like hotcakes

This is something I wrote a couple of weeks ago when I was getting more sleep and had fewer babies wanting me to hold them all the time. Thanks for all the lovely notes of congratulations. We are all well, if in various stages of crabby exhaustion. I figure that will lift in 2-3 years. 

I was cutting up Ada's pancakes while we talked about the day ahead and what we would do with Ada's grandparents.

Me: Be careful, they might still be hot.

Ada: Grandma and Bunka?

Me: No, the pancakes.

Ada: They aren't.

Me: Grandma and Bunka could be hot. They would be if they ran here.

Chris: Or if they had the heat on in their car.

Ada, clearly amused by our insanity: They don't have a car!

Me: They don't? How will they get here?

Ada: We make them in a pan!


  1. Perfect "nonlinear" conversation to post! Congrats and welcome back to rookie motherhood. Or sophomore... We'll be cheering you on!

  2. The fantasy. Me and the cheesefairy come by train.

    We do not speak but instead pace about. Singing strange Canadian lullabies. Our hair suddenly in buns. Holding babies as needed, shapeless caftans waving in a summer breeze.

    But really I have drunk too much. You?

    Yes, Grandparents are hot.

  3. Hope it's going wonderfully. The titular poopy fog must be a bit of a pea-souper now...Sorry, couldn't resist.