Now, I am sitting in a pile of 'Palmier' crumbs on my bed (courtesy of an early morning mission by the husband to procure my favourite treat from Paul's Patisserie) trying to keep the baby from polishing off the last bite (he's already eaten the bulk of this morning's pastries and screamed bloody murder when his big brother's tried to wrestle a bite off of him).
The husband gave me a very funny/scary card this morning with an elderly naked couple riding tandem on a bike. It made me laugh, but then I looked over to gauge his reaction and saw his eyes take on a wistful expression and realised that it probably is his wet dream. God help me. Along with the card I also got this cool black bracelet that tracks your day's activity, informs you on the quality of your sleep (I could tell you for nothing it's permanently shite), and lets you know how active you are on any given day (is this the husband's way of confirming his deep suspicion that all I do each day while he's at work is sit and eat bon-bons with the fat baby whilst directing minions of elves in their laundry and scrubbing toilets chores??).
At any rate, I can't complain. I'm a lucky girl with a day of babbling ahead of me (currently all the baby knows how to say is 'Happy Birthday to youuuuuuu...' so today of all days this is going to come in extremely handy), and later I intend to stuff myself so full of boozes and pizza (yep, it's still my favourite food) that I babble incoherently as I chuck myself in bed.
Another year I'll do the 'elegant-dress-up-in-Jimmy-Choo's-and-dine-at-a-fine-restaurant' thing.
This year I'm gonna keep it strictly Honey Boo-Boo....but of the brown trash variety.
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