Sunday Morning Coming Down

Fantastic song, written by Kris Kristofferson, recorded by Johnny Cash. Pretty much describes our day today in its first two lines:

"Well I woke up Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt;
"And the beer I had for breakfast, wasn't bad, so I had one more for dessert."

Except that our heads didn't hurt, and instead of beer, we had pancakes. T slept in until 7:30, which left us all extremely rested and happy. Tossed in a DVD of "Planet Earth", which we all enjoyed (though Mami left when an elephant was killed by lions), and then started in on some hard-core recreatin'.

Bike riding, a trip to the hardware store with T (who brought along her own shopping cart), lunch, another trip out to the sporting goods store to buy soccer balls and socks, nap for T, some soccer practice in the yard, more bikes - and then T' first play date ever, with a boy from down the street. Huge, huge fun.

And this video evidence of the next Justine Henin - I choose her, because like T, she is tiny:



OK, it's a baseball bat. But that is a tennis swing if ever I saw one. And the Russians have been training with bats for years.

We do sometimes put other clothes on her, by the way. It might seem like we've always got her in that Little House on the Prairie number, like we were some sort of cult with tow-headed, wide-eyed kids running all over, run by a grumbling, fiery-eyed, overdramatic polygamist patricarch with an Amish beard. But she wears all sorts of other clothes.

And so what if every one of those descriptors (except "polygamist") is actually true of us. Proves nothing.