Batman, etc.

It's raining outside, and I'm uncomfortable and depressing to be around, and so I'm mostly spending the day doing things that require a minimum of movement.  I'm going to throw out old magazines, and go through more boxes of little boy clothes and give them away.  David, I think, would like to simply empty the totes of clothes in garbage bags and give them away.  But I am sentimental.  I can't.

Clara, bless her heart, has acquired two incredibly annoying traits in the past few weeks that have rendered me almost entirely unable to speak to her.  The first is to lift her voice at the end of every sentence as though she is living entirely in a huge question.  And the second is to ask, at least a dozen times a day, "what is that thing called?"  Not in itself an awful question, but essentially replacing 'why' in her speech.

"Mama, mama mama?  What is DAT ting called?"
"Cheese."
"Cheeeeeese?"
"Yes, cheese."
"Dat ting called cheese?"
"Yes."
"Mamamamama?  What DAT ting called?"
"It's cheese."
"Dat ting cheese?"

GOOD HEAVENS YES IT'S CHEESE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY.

Bah.  It's a phase, it's a phase.  That particular phrase has never provided me with much comfort but I'll take what I can get.

And it is Tuesday again, so stitching group meets.  And a call has been put out at church to provide a member of the community with food, and so I feel as though I should go buy some, despite the rain, since the stitching group is right next to our grocery store.  Usually, I would tell myself to go to the less expensive store in the city but weariness is winning over logic and I'll spend twice as much here, but gain the satisfaction of actually having purchased food rather than simply telling myself I will for the next week and never remembering.

Speaking of logic or a lack thereof, David and I, despite everything that tells us otherwise, are probably going to spend about $60 on a toy for Samuel.  No, wait, it gets worse.  The toy is an almost two foot tall Batman cave play set thingy.  Lord Jesus, come anytime you like, no really.

It's just that he loves it so, so much.  On this dusty shelf at one of those old family run type department stores that exist practically nowhere.  The kind of place where the same three jars of Ponds cream have sat for a decade.  We go there to let the children ride the arthritic old mechanical pony for a quarter after I buy up all the discounted bananas from the local store.  And we HAD thought that maybe, maybe, the baby could bring gifts with her.  I know.

Ah well, he's only four once.  Would that a two foot tall bat cave could make him happy forever.