If only

There are so many things I could tell you about, if only it weren't Judybat's turn to blog ...

I could tell you about the unfortunate incident earlier this week in which TheBoy, tired of my efforts to get him to give me a kiss before he got out of the car (I was the car troll, and he was my victim), took another approach. Instead of kissing me, he reared back and punched me in the face. And then, realizing what he had done, he immediately started crying.

I could tell you about the conversation I had the other night with one of TheBoy's good friends, who was over for dinner and a shared bath. As TheBoy got out, the friend looked at his penis and yelled, horrorstruck, "What in the world happened to him?!?" Thus began my explanation of circumcision.

I could tell you about TheGirl's new teeth, which she is already putting to good use on both parts of my body and solid foods, and the interesting response she's developed to the pain of teething: When it gets really bad, she pukes. Then she laughs and goes about her business.

I could complain about the Yankees. Oh, how I could complain!

But, alas, it's not my turn to blog. Judybat, where are you?