SUNDAY TUB PROPHECIES

has he ever toppled over forwards into the bathtub? brandon asked me this morning while eyeing the green tub.

these days huck's favorite thing to do is to pull himself up to standing around stuff that is potentially life threatening. he loves especially the slippery green porcelain of the slippery green bathtub in our little green bathroom. he pulls himself up, balances precariously on his fat little toes, and then l-e-a-n-s as far forward as he can until he is touching the bottom of the tub with his fingertips. then he giggles and smacks the bathtub with his fat little hands and bounces with glee as his little voice echoes through the tub. eventually he stands upright, falls with a thud on his fat little bottom, claps his chubby little hands together (they always smell like mangos), nods his chubby little cheeks quite emphatically, and says 'tah tah tah tah." 

but no, he has never actually fallen forward into the bathtub. 

maybe today is the day, brandon said kind of ominously while wearing his yellow tie. was this a prophecy i wondered? i always try to prophesy about things which involve nutella if i can, because honestly that's a bit more sensible.

then we went to church, where nobody--not even anybody--fell into any bathtubs. 

ALTHOUGH: we did lose a toy due to some terribly awkward circumstances. a small boy somehow wandered into relief society carrying huck's toy. i church-texted to brandon, is that huck's church toy? and if so, what do i do?? and then while i sat there worriedly with question marks hovering over me, the church toy up and left with the church kid and that was the end of that. 

but no, no bathtubs. 

huck also didn't fall into the bathtub when we walked through central park to enjoy one of the last warm evenings of the year. this is not surprising. while we were there we happened upon some friends who were having a picnic. they had a million leftover tacos and offered us some, and i was certain all of my dreams had suddenly come true. 

RELATED BUT ONLY SLIGHTLY: my taco picnic friend's love language is feeding her friends. my love language happens to be all of the love languages, seriously you can't go wrong with me. 

when we got home i ran the shower.

and i was in the middle of explaining with grand gestures this thing i'd read on the twitters all about the wall street occupation and something about a "people's mic" while the water warmed up--when suddenly,

thunk!

i raced into the bathroom (physically two and a half steps away from where i was standing) and there he was, in the bathtub, covered with perfect-temperature shower sprinkles, his bottom half still hanging from the edge of that silly green tub, his little bare feet kicking sort of pathetically.

i picked him up and we looked at each other in shock. sort of a mixture of, gravity what is this? and, is my husband psychic???

i wordlessly carried my half-soaked baby into the living room, where the holbs sort of looked at me like seriously? and the huck sort of looked at me like why am i all wet? and we laughed over it and frowned over it and kissed wet babies and then the huck and me, we got in the shower, whereupon we decided that the holbsdad is not allowed to make prophesies anymore.

IN OTHER NEWS!

 there is a really neat diaper auction for a good cause happening here.

i owe many thanks to the blogfairy for straightening out my garbagey html (thanks, sistah!)

and guess what!

my kid's was name-dropped on nameberry today!

(i read that blog obsessively when i was pregnant, so this is a huge deal to me.)