Anyways... Yesterday is one month and counting until
My sister and her husband had wandered off to spend an afternoon alone, leaving nephew Collin with me and Joe. We decided to take him on a double-decker bus tour because, hey, isn't that what babies like to do?
Somewhere along the tour, we hopped off the bus to visit the family of local sheep-herders when suddenly their doorbell rang. For some reason, I knew they were coming for Collin. I quickly stashed him in a storage bin (yeah, yeah, shush) and filed him between Acupuncture and Camels.
When Alan Rickman came in demanding the boy, I put on my best Clueless Cate act. I've perfected it, really, to the point where it's no longer an act but a reality. Alan Rickman wasn't falling for it and quickly found Collin filed under B for Baby. If only I had filed him under N for Nerf-herder!
Maybe Alan Rickman isn't a dingo but he's still British or something so I'm pretty sure that's close enough. Plus, he stole the baby. He didn't eat it. Just sayin'.
As usual, Joe was nowhere around to save me or my nephew from the evil Alan Rickman. You can bet if it had been Joe's nephew, Alan Rickman would've gone away empty-handed. But no, I am
My sister was pretty mad when I told her Alan Rickman took her baby. Now what was she going to do with all these pureed carrots? Plus, no more tax deduction! To make her feel better, I made a carrot cake and we all watched Love Actually. In the morning, having gotten her first good night's sleep in almost fifteen months, she told me it was totally worth the loss of the tax deduction and she thanked me.
P.S. Aren't you glad I gave you a glimpse inside my head? It's kinda scary in there even when I'm sleeping. Also, after so many heavy posts this week, I decided I'd end on something light since I
P.P.S. It always amuses me when people constantly refer to celebrities by their first and last name. But then I guess not everyone's as awesome as Oprah or Bono.