I've got good news and bad news. And better news.
The good news: Robert got 12 hours of sleep last night--a welcome development, because all the excitement around the house lately (TwoBert's birthday parties, Mother's Day at our place, Grandma Jellyspoon's visit) had left him sleep-deprived and punchy as hell.
The bad news: He passed out on the couch at 5:30 last night.
He and I have an arrangement that if he's ever the first one up, he is to come to my side of the bed and whisper me awake, so that we can pad into the living room and Mama and TwoBert can stay asleep. Because this family needs a guy to fall on that grenade, and I am he. So I'm sorry if some of my out words order of are; most of the day has felt like I have sepia cataracts, thanks to the hamsters that are scratching at the insides of my eyeballs.
The better news is that TwoBert walked on Mother's Day, in full view of his mama and both of his grandmothers. He was cruising on a dining room chair, cackling like a jackal, when he just free-stood and wobbled over to the couch. And now, he has become our darling little ape boy, swinging from pant-leg to pant-leg like Tarzan on his vines.
My leg hairs eagerly await his bipodal autonomy.
