Fountain of youth gone wild

I seem to have acquired a roommate. He snores when he sleeps; sings when he's awake, and occupies the majority of what used to be quiet space within the bedroom. I'm not gonna lie: Sam's loud. All the time. The good news is, I'm learning to talk right back, and I must say, I'm starting to hold my own in the vocabulary department. Concepts that once made sense only inside my head, now roll off the tip of the tongue with relative ease. Apple (App-oh). Egg (Kay). Milk (Muck). Truck (Cuck). More (Mow-ah). Store (Stow-ah). Kitty (Kitty). Dog (Kitty). Squirrel (Kitty). We're all handling the incessent babble fairly well; bursts of interpretation frustration happen if hungry or tired. (Ambiguous antecedent: intended.)

With a roommate comes a graduation from our respective sleeping arrangements. In true frugal form (Can you believe he's a democrat?), Dad found a bunk bed on Craig's list. Sam's pack and play is officially folded and stored for travel use only. He's got my crib, and I get to stretch into a full-sized-big-boy bottom bunk, with gaudy turquoise sheets and two (count 'em - two) pillows. Naps and bedtime have never been so fun.

Changes are happening on all planes of our house these days. Not only has the basement bathroom been re-tiled, re-painted and equipped with a fully functional shower (Yep, Dad's a handiman.), we've jettisoned the huge busted up concrete slab from the backyard. While this temporarily broke the heart of my basketball-player-in-her-dreams mother, she did come to mutual agreement with Dad that a grass-filled backyard will help the long-term character and sustainability of the property. Due to Dad's semi-perfectionist behaviors (when it comes to landscaping, that is), the sprinkler is timed, rotated, and coaxing the baby grass along swimmingly.

Swimming! It's like an outdoor bath with clothes! Where has this been all of my life? Thanks to the See-Spot-Save special at Target, we're proud owners of an air-filled, dolphin-spits-water kiddie pool. Glory! The dolphin spew provides the occasional refreshing beverage, and the next-door neighbor boys provide the necessary toys to make outdoor swimming my new favorite summertime activity.

In other news, I'm learning to share. It's just so ... hard. My trucks, my cars, my lawn mower: all so important to me, and Sam just ... gets in the way. He wants to spin the wheels of my fire trucks, crawl into the path of my lawn mowing, raise taxes on the richest 1% of Minnesotans. Oh wait - that's somebody else. Nonetheless, playtime is not allowed to shutdown for nine days running. While it's important to stand for what we believe, the theory and practice of play must align in order for me and Sam to don our pursuit of happiness. C'mon Minnesota governement. If we can figure it out, so can you.

Until next time,

Ken