Yesterday, Tony came home after a two-week business trip. I was a bit jittery about announcing it to the World Wide Webs before or while he was gone because I watch too much Criminal Minds and am sure I will be the victim of
the first Dutch serial killer since the 1880s.
The last one was a bonnet-donning, dead-eyed, arsenic-slipping
Leiden parricide; I'm not taking any chances. Dutch serial killers only come around once in couple lifetimes, but they don't mess around. (Confessions of a Cookbook Queen's Kristan
has similar neuroses, if you wish for further comedy).
Since he had to be away for
Julian's first birthday, I baked and frosted two little layers for a miniature version of
the real deal, and re-created the party scene in a fine-art card, which included a teeny tiny
bunting (I'm obsessed right now- look at
these shoes!!) and a clipping of my hair, sacrificed during
my daily trim.
Fine art. Right.
Spending two weeks apart is harder for the one away, I think; at this age, daily change is abound. In the last two weeks, Julian has gotten in a molar, started standing without support, learned how to wave, climbed an entire flight of stairs, and become so much more active and coordinated.
Reunion is so sweet. Welcome home, my dearest!!!
xxx,
j
