reap what you sow

the most memorable toast given at stephen and my wedding was, i'd have to say, the one given by our best man, nate, who basically stood up there with the mic and said "these guys...are the best!" several...hundred...times. okay, maybe only like three times. but it felt like a lot more. less memorable to the general public, perhaps, but one of my favorite things about our wedding, was our best woman's toast: sarah simply said, "to kristen and stephen; may life live up to your expectations and your specifications."

so, yeah. both of us are a little...opinionated. firm in our likes and dislikes. some would say picky. some would say compulsive.

and this appears to be something that is carried in the dna.

this morning at playgroup, wile went off on gwen for holding the piece of toast that he shared with her wrong. i mean, really—you give up a piece of your toast to someone, asking nothing in return, and they have the audacity to hold it wrong? what is this world coming to? gwen, to her credit, looked at him like he was nuts as he reached over and adjusted the toast in her hand, then crammed the whole thing in her mouth. good girl.

then this evening, we had wile's friend lucas over for dinner. about halfway through the meal, wile yells, with palpable horror, "oh!! mama!!" i jump out of my seat and go to see what has befallen him, and it's, well, it's almost too horrible to show....it's.....



a piece of food! on the table! call in the professionals, i don't know if i can handle this one on my own!

you know, when wile was an infant, he would cry for an hour or two every afternoon. i assumed that it was digestive issues, but maybe i was wrong. maybe he didn't like the onesie i had picked out, or his stuffed animals were in the wrong order on the shelf, or i had been holding my teacup incorrectly.