Somebody once told us that when you have kids, things are very hard in the beginning, and then they get easier, and then get hard once again when the second child gets mobile. In our house right now, it's absolute anarchy. James seems to have catapulted from chubby ball sitting on the floor to Olympic medalist (the event is unclear) in a couple of weeks and we are far from prepared. Every moment of the day is spent either sweeping his throat for a foreign object, gasping as a sharp corner narrowly misses his eye socket, or counterbalancing a bar stool just as it gets ready to crack his skull. In our spare moments, we're daydreaming about baby helmets, infant cages, and weighing whether our friends and neighbors would judge us if we installed some sort of a stake-in-the-ground tether system.
So about June, we say this: we're glad we're all still alive.
