I won't say that I have writer's block, because that would indicate that I am somehow filled with angst over my inability to put words on a page.
No. I am totally uninterested. There is no agony. I am not sitting in my chair attempting to open a vein. I have been doing other things. I have been trying not to think about the fact that I still cannot hear properly. I've been sewing and making poopcakes and on Friday we took Violet to the Cincinnati Children's Museum.
The last time we took Violet to the museum, she was about 20 months old and, unbeknowst to us, on the verge of a case of diarrhea worthy of a hospital stay. It was not a good time.
This time there was no digestive distress on the horizon and once the field trip
apes kids left the building, Violet had a really good time. The adorable outfit you see here, did not last long. It met with a very soggy fate in the water play area, despite our use of the provided splash jackets. They may as well call them, your-parents-won't-know-how-wet-you-are-until-it's-too-late jackets.
Thankfully, they had hand dryers. I am sure that impromptu garment drying is one of the skills that the museum planners intended to teach the kids.
Because I am that kind of mommy, the extra dress I packed for Violet happened to be one she does not care for. She has staunchly refused to wear it ever since it arrived in it's little plastic UPS envelope. Take that kid! It's naked, or ugly, stripey dress.
Aaron performed a puppet show for the apathetic teenage parents whose very small child ran around unsupervised while they perfected looking bored.
I had a tiny heart attack as we passed through this room.
Oh God! It feels like one's on me...is it on me?
This play space was designed for kids 8 and older, so Mommy and Daddy had to take turns chaperoning Violet through the tree innards. Notice, that we each delighted in photographing the others ass. And no, I do not have a stain on my butt. It's a patch, because I am way too classy to walk around with a swatch of my panties on display.
The pictures don't do justice to how high Violet got in the netting. We were tired, so we made it clear that rescue was not an option and when she went in anyway I started scouting for responsible looking 8 year olds who might be able to go in after her. It took a LONG time for her to come back down, but she made on her own.
I came down this slide approximately 1700 times and Aaron photographed them all. However, there are none of Violet exiting the slide because she didn't make old lady noises warning the photographer of her approach.
*For the record, I'd like to state that one of the reasons I had a child was so that I could play like this without being stared at. We did this once when we were first married and people gave us the stink eye, as if we were just waiting for the right moment to make off with their kids. Of course, I did stare hungrily at the babies when I was trying to conceive, but I never seriously considered kidnapping. Okay, maybe once, but that kid was REAL pretty.