Peanuts

This post is short because I'm still peeved at the crack California Department of Highway Confusion. That's "crack" as in "very good at what they do," not as in, "certainly involving illegal drugs." Although for all I know maybe that's how they get their inspiration. I hadn't meant to go into specifics, but here's just one: we're heading west on I-80, looking for 580 E. We pass the 680 junction. No problem, it must count down. Then we pass the 780 junction. Uh-oh, it's not counting down after all. Then WAY THE HELL LATER we don't come to a 580 junction, I-80 TURNS INTO 580. WTH? Come on, guys, it's like exit numbers. You don't have exit 68, then exit 78, then exit 58!

Anyway. The peanut bullets.

- Before I left for San Fransisco yesterday, Matthew took his pig around the house with him and tucked it into bed. "Night, night." And he'd pull a blanket over it and then start playing. Then he'd drag it over to the next thing he wanted to play with, and tuck it in over there too. The funniest one was when he came to see what Daddy was doing in the master bedroom (trying to conduct a phone interview away from the savage peanut, is what) and tucked it in on the bed, then started jumping around. It's a good thing that pig had gotten a lot of sleep by then because he wasn't going to get any more with all that bouncing going on!

- From Rachel: yesterday morning after I left for work Matthew helped himself to a knife from the dishwasher and decided to see how deep a hole he could make in the wall before Mommy caught him. (Not very, it turns out.) Matthew got put in time out for this; I wonder if his baby mind is sophisticated enough yet to be glad he didn't pull that particular trick while Daddy was home.