So I'm at church on Sunday, the first Sunday of the new year, the craziest Sunday for primaries 'round the globe. The new Sunbeams are scared and want to go back to nursery (imagine 5 or so crying youngens, and in between sobs they say, "But I don't want to be a Sunbeam!"), the old Sunbeams don't want to go to CTR 5 and cry that they still want to be Sunbeams, the older kids forget who their new teachers are and run around like baby chicks while their frazzled teachers try to gather them under wing and usher them to the quietude of the classrooms...
Got the scene? Good.
It was in the midst of this chaos that two five year old girls approached me. "Is there a baby in there?" they asked, patting my incredible growing belly. "Yup," I say, "a little girl baby." I expected them to ooh and aah. To sigh. To smile. To act like sweet little girls.
The reality was that one of them said, "That's why you're sooooooo fat!" And on the word "fat" she jumped in the air and threw her arms out, big as the whole wide world, big as 'i-love-you-this-much'.
Then she asked me how my baby was going to come out.
It was almost as good as the time I was sitting at the piano, minding my own business, when a guy came up to me and said, "Well, you don't look like you'll blow away in a windstorm anymore. Har, Har, Har."
Now onto the good. Relieved, right?
I know, me too.
There is a darling little family that lives kitty corner to us. A mom, a dad, and four pretty girls. Last night, Brian was helping them with something and when he came back, he brought this:
Just in case you can't read that, it says across the top "Conratragalations on the coming soon baby girl!"
On the bottom it says:
My favorite? Young.
And who doesn't love a sunset and mountains scene made entirely out of Bendaroos?
And now for the not ugly. No, not very ugly at all. I am, let's say, fond of antiques. I don't buy tons of them, but I have bought more than my fair share for the nursery. The hobnail hurricane lamp, the hobnail vase, the hobnail candy dish, the dresser, and the embroidery hoops I'm using to decorate the walls are all antique. And then last Saturday, whilst antiquing with Brian and my parents, I found this:
And I am smitten. I am in deep smit.