I don’t know even know where to start about the last couple of weeks. Somewhere in the previous fourteen days of poignance and dumbassery there is a blog post, but it’s mostly snippets like, “and then my kid dropped to the floor and began swimming across the tiles like a beached carp.”
If memory serves me correctly, my husband had a birthday, we ate lots of Arthur Bryant’s BBQ and we bought him a new toy with a piece of half-chewed fruit on the front of it. I mean that my husband got the new toy, not Arthur Bryant, because really, why would a dead guy need an iPad? I’m pretty sure FaceTime does not extend into the afterlife. Yet.
The next day I packed up my kid, said goodbye to the husband and his new electronic best friend and we drove down to Texas to spend a few weeks with the family. (Well no, I did all the driving. Monkey sat in the back and threw goldfish at the back of my head.)
Texas has been OMGCRAZY and OMGHOT all week long, what with family stuff and my nephew’s second birthday party and relentless, oppressive heat and humidity (“Air you can wear” they call it) that finally broke yesterday as the clouds took pity on us and splattered a few raindrops down on the boiling asphalt.
I’m in Houston at the moment, an hour-and-a-half drive from my family’s “compound” in the swamp, where I am being spoiled rotten by my aunt and uncle. Earlier today my aunt and I took my son to the children’s museum where the highlight of my visit was this magical moment.
What? What’s even happening in this photo? What’s happening is that my cute little tyke is being transformed into the most adorable scientist ever. Are you ready for this?
BAM. Oh, the cute.
If you’re in Houston and you get a chance to visit the Children’s Museum of Houston, DO IT. There are activities, experiments and crafts for all ages, and you can go upstairs with your little ones and play in the TotSpot while your big kids scale the Power Tower.
After about an hour of nonstop mental stimulation, my son’s brain began to short circuit and for a moment he must have thought himself a fish, because he wriggled out of my grasp, threw himself onto the ground into what I thought was going to be an almost-two-year-old tantrum and instead began to stroke with his arms like he was swimming, all while grunting like a rhinoceros and stretching his toes through his flip flops to propel himself forward.
He did this for about 15 feet, until my aunt and I began to notice that people were staring so we scooped him up and headed home.
That moment alone was enough for today to leave an indelible mark on the pages of my life, but this gets even better. Tonight my aunt smoked some salmon and served it with lemon butter and crab and there are no pictures because I was too busy eating it. I mean, I photograph my oatmeal in the morning before I take a bite so obviously this stuff was divinely delectable.
The food was in fact so good that I did not care about my dinner table conversation faux pas where, when my uncle cracked to my son that microwaves weren’t for toddlers, they were for gerbils, I said “That’s not what Richard Gere says” and the whole table dropped their forks and looked at me like I’d just popped a squat and taken a dump on the linoleum and I thought “Oh shit, apparently that story has made the rounds and they totally got that joke and I thought it was just gonna be my own private haha with myself and they were all going to think I was just weird but now they think I’m a total perv…”
So, that? Didn’t even phase me because SMOKED SALMON, y’all.