Broken Glass

Last Saturday, Cobalt put his fist through the front window.

Luckily, he neither cut himself badly or fell through. He's had this habit, that we were never very fond of and always discourage, of pounding on the windows with his hands or any object he may have in them. This incident took place, while Kyle and I were outside trimming the big tree, in order to get more light into the back yard. Cobalt was inside playing with Rui, our homestay student from China.

I had escaped into the garage to get or do something, and when I came back out, Kyle came running out for me to come inside. She said that Cobalt had broken the front window. Apparently, Rui was about to get in the shower and she heard the glass break. I was right below the window and didn't hear a thing. Cobalt didn't scream or cry, amazingly. He apparently just went about his business.

Lucky for him, he ended up with just a little cut on his finger, that did require a bandage, but didn't require a trip upstairs to The Dr. (Uncle Pat) or to the emergency room.

Luckily for us, we had a window that sort-of fit to replace the broken one. Previously, we removed the window between the kitchen and the laundry porch. That window was about 1/4" wider than the one in the front. (You see, all the windows in this place appear to be custom size. I don't think that we even have two identical!) I decided that it would be easier to trim the wood frame of the window than the glass itself, as the glass is old and kind of fragile. So I spent the next couple of hours, trimming and fitting the window back into place.

So much for a relaxing Saturday.

Bobalt

Now that Cobalt is "talking" a bit, he's decided that his name is to be "Bobalt". Don't know if he actually knows what he is saying, or if he is mimicking our intonations, or if he just can't say the hard "c".

In other news, he can count to five this way: two...five...two...five...two...(yay!, clap, clap, clap)

Too cute.

Playground

Last night, I realized why we have such things as strollers...

I got home from work a little early last night, so I picked up the dogs on the way to get Cobalt from school. I figured that we could go to the playground or take a walk (I've been needing the excercise) after we picked him up. Well, I must have had my head up my ass in the garage, 'cause I didn't notice that the stroller was there and that Cobalt did not have the stroller at school.

Upon picking up the little bugger, we decided to brave it and go ahead and hit the playground. We made it over there alright, had fun and got dirty at the playground. The dogs even made some little premie kids happy by allowing a loooong and tenuous petting session to take place.

Then it became the time to leave...

After giving Cobalt a few warnings that we were going to have to go home to bake the bread that was proofing on the counter, I made the move to leave. You'd have thought that I was trying to pull his fingernails out, slowly, the way he was wailing. He kicked as only he can kick. He even pinched my face so hard I thought I was going to bleed. Finally, I pulled him up and tucked him in my arms like I was the Heisman Trophey, unleashed the dogs and made and end run.

It only took us about 1/2 hour to make the 5-block walk. Battered and bruised, we finally made it. And the bread? Fabulous. No pictures, however, as the comera fucking broke and I have to send it back to Canon for repair/replacement. I will NOT be buying another Canon.

Oh Shit!

The other morning, while Cobalt was out in the back with his Granddad's wife, Elizabet, we heard the scream...

"ABBY...SHIT...EW...STINKY" (or something along those lines)

At that point I thought: "well, better clean up the LAWN".

Pictures for a rainy day.

It's been a rough couple of weeks and I need to smile...

...there, that's better.

The first image was after painting at the NOPNA Block Party, and the others were after a bath. Cobalt wanted to wear the shirt that mom wear's to sketch faces.