"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."
My Boog Pages
Saturday, March 5
A Slack Jaw, And Not Much To Say
So, it's been like 10 days since I last wrote. Damn. Jim Freakin' Pascoe has updated twice since then. What's there to write about? Ah yes - the musical talents of the latest member of the Powell clan.
I used to play the drums a (badly (not false modesty, either)) and I still tend to tap out rhythms when I fidget. The new baby, now 10 months along, likes to bat along with me. So I hauled out a little toy drum that I got for one of the other kids last Chrismas (or was it Christmas before last?) and he started whacking it and grinning like a madman.
This goes on for a few minutes, then he crawls over to the bucket of Lincoln Logs, pulls out the two longest logs he can find, and starts using them as drumsticks. And I'm thinking, "Aw, that's the cutest thing..."
Then he turns and starts beating holy Hell out of me with them. What could I do? You can't take something away from a toddler without starting a screaming fit, so I tried distracting him with his favorite ball (plush, with a bell in the center). No luck. I had to sit there and take it. Every time he hit me, I yelped, and then he'd laugh. I swear he got that one from his mother.
