Squirrely

Imagine if you will, staying up for the most part of the night with your teething son (our new motto: sleep is for the weak), and having your beloved generously offer to take said son down to the first floor at 4 a.m. so you can get a desperately needed hour or two of shut eye. Now imagine waking at 5 a.m. to a bit of a ruckus downstairs, and coming upon the following sight: your skinny-legged husband wearing nothing but a pair of long underwear bottoms and your delighted, shrieking son in the sling, chasing (along with the two befuddled cats) a small squirrel around the living room with a roll of wrapping paper. If you now have a good vivid image in your head, you have the slightest idea of what my morning was. As Jay said, "I don't know how many people can say they've soothed a child, eaten breakfast, made their lunch, caught and released a squirrel and rode their bike 11 miles, all before 7 a.m." Indeed.