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We've been inundated with fruit flies the last several days. I set out a small bowl of apple cider vinegar spiked with dash of dish soap to take care of the problem. It's working beautifully. It's also making my entire house smell like feet. It's not nice.

Today is Henry's birthday. His party was on Saturday. His Grandparents waited until yesterday to give him his presents. Today he's getting ours, plus a few from his Aunts and Uncle, as well as his Grammy and Grandpa's. He'll also be getting another cake. That's three days of continuous celebration. It's making me seriously reconsider how I go about celebrating my own birthday.

Thursday morning the young man will climb aboard a bus and head off into the oblivion that is the local school system where he'll be knocking around for the next 13 years. We've been so busy with traveling and celebrating birthdays that I haven't yet had a chance to work myself up into a proper froth over it. Henry had to fill out a questionnaire for his teacher, which we brought with us to his open house last week. She was inquiring after preferred nicknames, interests, anxieties, etc. One of the questions was "This year I'd like to learn _______." Henry's response was "how to play the drums". I had a sneaking suspicion that was not the answer she was necessarily looking for (or maybe it was, who am I to say?), but it was so gosh-darned sincere, I didn't bait him into falsehoods. I looked at the other kids' sheets and they all said "how to read". Dare to be different, kiddo.