Slip sliding away, part 2

Hudson had a spill on his bike yesterday and he scraped up his elbow pretty badly even though, and this is disappointing, he was wearing elbow pads. Although I know the elbow and knee pads and other gear I find so annoying to keep up with has saved him from many, many other skin abrasions in bike adventures over the year or so since he's been on the two wheeler. Anyway, he was really loudly sad about the blood, and Helena was, as usual overly solicitous in her sympathies, which required Hudson to show great restraint in his agony, because I am certain he wanted to knock her clean out.

He recovered and spent the rest of the afternoon shooting the two new Nerf guns the daddy came home with this week. The daddy may or may not be stockpiling weapons of all kinds because of the results of the recent election.

I think this is fascinating: I had two separate friends give birth yesterday. They both had baby girls. Which isn't that interesting until I tell you that Mrs. S added this sole daughter to her FIVE sons,  and Mrs. M added this sole daughter to her FOUR sons. Then I started thinking about it and realized I have several other friends with a similar ratio: Mrs. Y had three lovely sons before Miss C showed up, Mrs.C had four sons, then Miss K, then two more sons, and Mrs. F had four sweet boys before Miss M showed up seven months ago. What do you think this means? Is there an army of magnificence in our future? Or will our daughters have a delightful array of suitors who will have to prove themselves worthy amongst impressive competition? Anyway, welcome to the world little P and little C. Your brothers are sure to love and protect you well.

I just had to push Sasha off my lap because she does this thing where she nudges her way in without any sort of invitation and makes it very difficult to type on the iPad (which already tries my patience and skills). She is already on my bad side today because she ran outside into the front yard just as we were loading up the van for school this morning. Of course I always leave plenty of time for such contingencies as a wayward chihuahua. OR we were already a touch behind schedule and I had to chase her down. She was, ironically, seeking shelter in our neighbors' side yard just a few feet away from an enormous dog that likely would eat Sasha in a single bite if she got out of her fence. Her name is Gucci. Anyway, the reason Sasha was trying to escape in the first place is because she is so utterly despondent at being placed in her crate when we leave the house. I think I have mentioned before the feral howl she emits every single time we leave the house. I even tried to give her a treat one day this week as we left to go to the park. She did not eat it. She waited until we got home and then I heard her crunching it as soon as we walked in the door. I thought that showed incredible restraint, and it also made me realize that her grief is such that she gives herself up for dead when she is denied our community. Why eat a treat when the world is as good as ended?

Perhaps you will make your own spiritual metaphors based on my dog.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I woke up in the middle of the night last night with a coughing spasm. Which has happened more nights than not this past week. The husband got me some water and I got a cough drop which I've kept on my nightstand for emergencies (Hudson has asked approximately 56 times if he might have it) and I sort of dozed off and swallowed the cough drop accidentally. I had a moment where I thought it might be the end of it all (and was just awake enough to realize that Death By Lozenge is super humiliating) but thankfully it went safely down my esophagus.

The end.