All in a day's work.

If it's not broken.. Don't fix it! I made twice as much work for myself by trying to reduce my seam allowance on a batch of three layer diapers. The idea was that a narrower seam allowance would be a marginally more generously sized diaper.

Yeah. Except that I ended up missing the inside layer. Wouldn't be a problem except that I was turning and topstitching - making the inner layer ( that I'd missed ) the diaper's outer fabric. Crap.

On every single one of the eleven diapers I'd painstakenly cut and pinned together to prevent EXACTLY this from happening...

Which I'd already added elastic too... In that tiny seam allowance. Which meant verrrry little room to go back and fix it.

Arg.

Other than that, its been pretty status quo here. Robby turns five tomorrow. Hard to believe that I've been mothering him for five years. Each year has brought something special - from his birth, to first steps, and this year comes his first day of school! Where did the time go?

He's lost most of his baby-isms, much to my dismay. No longer does he say giff fertickatick. No marshlellows. No hostipal. No more constuctions. No more girections. We haven't been to Tim Portons, or Tarducks in many months. Quite to the contrary, he'll correct me when I attempt to hold on to the last vestige of babyhood babble. ( Mila, at least, has baby language still. Hocks and hoos! Hirr it up! Hockamook! Halmart! We go hopping together. Mah baby! Put mah baby in the hling! )

Instead, Robby's language has grown by leaps and bounds in the most interesting of directions. Yesterday, he asked if we'd have nearly enough of something for dinner. He tells me "exactly" and " definitely" and "certainly". He can articulate with a clarity that is astounding in someone of his age. He picks up on words like " starving" and "exhausted" and quizzes me on their meaning, and then works them into conversations in proper context!

He asks about birth, death, and old age. He kisses my belly and ( mostly ) gently feels around my belly for the hard lump that is baby #3's rump. He brings me bread and cheese to make his sandwhich, remembers how many cups of "splendid" goes into the pitcher of Koolaid. He talks about Shabbos, lighting the candles, and being jewish.

He'll always be my baby, but he's truly not a baby. Tomorrow, when he blows out the candle on his volcano cake, he'll really be a big boy!
Sent wirelessly from my BlackBerry device on the Bell network.
Envoyé sans fil par mon terminal mobile BlackBerry sur le réseau de Bell.