Pillow Talk

Since I have started my VERY official mini med school classes, I am unfortunately not home for the pebbles' bedtime routine on Monday nights. But, I do get home just as Elliot is right about to fall asleep (the sweetest time in my opinion). I go in to give Elliot hugs and kisses and secrets ("I love you's") and then he insists on telling me what he had for dinner.

Picture this entire conversation in a whisper ...

"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Guess what we had for dinner."
"What?"
"Sausages, mmm, sausage and pepperoni pizza with KARMesan cheese."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah, and corn."
"Yummy. What did you have for dessert?"
"Oatmeal cream pie. But you know what?"
"What?"
"It's not really a pie. It's a cookie."
"Mm hmm."
"And it's not really cream, it's frosting."
"Yep."
"So it's really a frosting cookie."
"You're right."
"But, mmm, it was good. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"See you in the morning -- I'll wake up really early to put my ice pack in my lunch so we don't forget, okay?"
"Okay."
"Goodnight, mom."
"Goodnight."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"See you in the morning."

Splish Splash

Elliot is what you would say ... COMFORTABLE ... in front of the camera. Here he is entertaining his
sister (and himself) during bathtime.

Christmas

Elliot made a decision tonight as he was examining my stitches.

"Mommy, I am going to get you a new gall bladder for Christmas ... and when I do, we are going to take you back to the hospital, find the doctors who took yours out and have them put back in the new one, deal?"

Standards

I have a lot of catching up to do with photos, etc. on this blog, but I had a minor hiccup in my life last weekend (got my gall bladder removed) which makes it hard to be enthusiastic about posting anything. However, I had to share a conversation from last night with my charming and complimentary little boy.

So it is that I am on a semi-restrictive diet following surgery ... while Dustin and the kids feasted on pork chops and perfectly delicious potatoes, I had a bowl of tomato soup.

Campell's, out of a can, mixed with water -- tomato soup.

When Elliot saw it, he had to have some, too.

As we sat there enjoying our respective dinners, Elliot looks at me and says, "Mommy, you make the best tomato soup EVER."

"Thanks buddy," I said, "I opened the the can all by myself."

"You DID?" he asked. "You didn't even need a can opener!?"

"No, I just peeled the top right off."

"Wow."

I can't even begin to tell you the standards this young man is going to have when he heads out into the real world. They are going to be high.