If I had blogged in the past few days, I would have told you -
A. I had strep throat at the end of last week. Of all things, right? I've nursed our home through strep throat twice in the past six months without catching it myself, and then picked it up at work last week (I think). So I walked around with a can of Lysol and a spray bottle of bleach solution for a few days, trying not to kiss my children (a harder task than I would have predicted) and willing everyone else to stay well. This, followed by Saturday afternoon, when Brian walked into the living room and found Silas CHEWING on my germ-infested toothbrush. You know, just because. One more evidence that what we want and what's good for us don't always coincide.
B. The saving grace in Silas' chewing my germy toothbrush is that he's already on antibiotic for the worst ear infection I've ever seen, and friends, I've SEEN some ear infections. So maybe it's like muscle confusion (or at least what the P90X infomercial tells me muscle confusion is - otherwise I would not have a clue what the phrase meant) for antibiotics - maybe fighting off germs on several fronts is sharpening the antibiotic's germ-fighting skills. Let's hope.
C. A few days ago an acquaintance asked me about my children (with them present) and said, "Now, isn't Asher your good one?" First of all, that depends on the day. Second of all, it would never occur to me to characterize either of my children as "the good one." They seem to take turns being easier to calm down, but even that can depend on the day. One is more social, and one is more ... deliberate than the other, but good? Meaning what, the other is bad? I said something to the effect of, "Well, they are both all boy, if that's what you mean," but I walked away wishing my children had heard me correct her a little more directly. They are both "good" (meaning, cooperative) sometimes. They are both "difficult" (meaning, uncooperative) sometimes. I'm pretty sure that just makes them both human.
D. Asher's buddy is about to move into a new house (still in the neighborhood, thank goodness). The other night at the dinner table we were talking about this, and it concerned Asher. "Where will his toys go?" "Where will his bed go?" things like that. So we started asking them both what their favorite things about our house were. Both mentioned games we play here, or their favorite toys. It didn't occur to them that we could play those games (and toys) somewhere else. They can't separate our life together from the house we live it in. Maybe that's because neither of them remember moving (we bought this house when Asher was a baby), or maybe context is always that important to the experience. What we do and where we do it and the emotions stirred by the action are all part of the same experience, so that when I ask about the setting, they tell me about the plot.