On a flight last summer, I had the misfortune of scoring a middle seat next next to a tremendously drunk young guy. When he wasn’t passed out from the three cocktails Southwest had served him (for a 50-minute flight!), he began LOUDLY serenading me (and the rest of the cabin) with slurred info about his life. He couldn’t shut up about how his girlfriend was blonde (“BLAAAHNDE!!”) and hot (“HAAAAWT!!”), sharing way too much detail & repeating himself over and over.
Having “enjoyed” his performance art for two hours (thanks to bonus time stuck waiting for a gate), I finally escaped with my wits somewhat intact. At home I treated Margot & nearby Finn to a recap, making the little guy ask, “What is ‘Blaaande‘? What is ‘Haaaawt‘?” I tousled his hair and explained that *he’s* blonde–to which he added, “And hot!!”
This week as I prepared to head to Germany, Finn asked out of the blue, “Is the ‘Blonde, Hot’ guy gonna be on there?” I told him I sure hoped not! Even better, Henry–who’s clearly been on full record mode & is ready for some playback–started chiming in from the next room: “Blaaaand… hawwwt!!” What a proud dad I am. 🙂
Yesterday as Mom-O did a 10-mile walk (putting the “go go” in “Margot”), the guys and I fooled around with neighborhood trash cans, “rescuing” some discarded Swiffers & mops from the gutter. (Hey man, cheap thrills, and they were as happy as clams!) After hauling home our loot, we spent much of the day redistributing leaves around our driveway; here’s a 
Margot kids me for my “grandma stylings,” slinking around the house with a blanket over my shoulders. Finn spied me like this on a recent cold morning:
And now, a scene from the bathtub the other night:
