Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Thursday, March 09, 2006

My beloved spouse woke up our son this morning. Usually I get up with him, but he slept so late that I was at work before he got up, and in the end my spouse (who fortunately laughed when I told her that I could never refer to her nom du blog -- "beloved spouse" -- in abbreviated form) had to wake him in order to get out of the house in time. Here is her account:

"I kissed him lightly on his little lips, and he stirred a bit. I kissed him again, and he opened up his eyes, and said, sleepily, '... the salad. The salad that you made me eat last night.' He sat up and smiled, and said, 'I dweamed the salad kissed me.' "
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