Dear Salty Sailor,

just look at those baby blues.

it’s been raining all week here. all i can say is thanks be to jupiter for indoor playgrounds. thank drops of jupiter for grandparents who buy admission passes to said indoor playgrounds. (i know how much you love it when i reference Train.) i feel much more at ease this week, having gotten back to focusing on what’s important and giving little d the patience she needs from me. all is well, hubster, all is well. everything is in the pictures.

she is pretty much a constant stream of running commentary on life now and her saving grace is she’s hilarious or else i don’t know if my nerves could take it. seriously talking from the minute she’s up until the minute she goes to sleep. she talks herself to sleep. then she sometimes talks in her sleep. do you know why parents get their daughters their own lines and phones shaped like giant lips? so their daughters will talk to someone else besides them. geeesh.

quotes: “i’m daddy and i like big money”

as she and i are leaving kyli’s house: “mommy, are you going to a concert?” i’m actually slightly proud of that one.

“darla what are you doing?” “i just stole a pig”  huh???? i didn’t ask.

she pings the pong

these eyes are just getting me this week. so stinking scrumptious.

 

circus freak

look at what i got over here for you

mid-sandwich life contemplation

sending you some radar love,

fwifey, now wifey.

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