I'm tentatively back online.
My hard drive was replaced.
I still have no idea if any of my data can be recovered.
So to change the subject, I will tell funny stories.
The kids and I walked to Jefferson Market today to get a muffin and as we were sitting outside amongst all the neighborly chit-chatting someone said something like, "Yeah, this baby came out with black hair." Ocean's eyes got huge and he yelled, "MY POOP IS BLACK!"
This morning on the way back from The Soccer Practice That Wasn't (as in, Ocean decided to play on the playground instead) he was getting tired and cranky. I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring the whining when Iris piped up: "Chill out, Ocean."
Ocean was eating an apricot and he started vigorously rubbing his head. When I asked him what he was doing he replied, "I got juice on my hand. So I'm wiping it in my hair."
Iris woke up from her nap before Ocean and I went to go close his door so she wouldn't wake him up. She was talking loudly and Ocean yelled from inside his room, "Stop it, Iris!" Under her breath Iris said, "Shush, Ocean."
We've hit a picky eating stage with Ocean. Trying to get ideas for the types of foods he is interested in, I asked him what his favorite food is. "Artichokes," he answered. He's never even had artichoke.
A friend's baby was at our house and was babbling and cooing at Ocean.
Ocean: She's talking to me!
Me: What did she say?
Me: And what does that mean?
Every night when he gets in bed, Ocean asks, "How was your day? Who'd you play with?" As you tell him all the things you did, he counts them on his fingers.
This is Iris's bedtime routine. After we rock and sing a song I put her in her bed and she says, "Sit." I sit on the floor next to her crib and she says, "Hand." I hold her hand and say prayers. When I say, "Thank you, Jesus," she says "AMEN." As I stand up to leave she calls out, "Thank you!"
My sister was holding six balls. Ocean was trying to count them but kept saying she had five, because that's currently his favorite number. (Ten more minutes at the park? How about five. Three years old? Nope... five.) We told him to touch each ball as he counted. Which was working great until he touched the purple ball twice. It went like this--
Ocean: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! FIVE!
Also, Ocean calls his mouth his little hole. As in, "That bite of broccoli won't fit in my little hole." And he points to his mouth.
And, just because I can't help myself, Phil liked Bride Wars better than The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.