Speaking of bedtime, Oliver has graduated to a big boy bed! I know it's about time - he's 3. But the crib was still working so we thought what the heck? Was working. A few weeks ago, shortly after putting the Olive to bed, we heard a crash, like Santa just landed his team... inside. I thought surely our boy Ollie jumped ship. No. He was jumping alright...IN his bed. The platform for the mattress let go in one corner and there you go. Big boy bed. I'll post pictures soon -- his room is really coming together with his little train car beds and books and animals. Fun!
Okay, on the note of Santa Claus: Oliver informed me the other day he wants a chimney for 'Sanda'. That's what happens when you watch Winnie the Pooh's Christmas in the off-season.
News from the wood shop: Andrew, due to a swiftly approaching deadline, worked 82 hours IN ONE WEEK a couple weeks ago, which I didn't know was humanly possible. Oliver and I spent some late nights working with him which is kind of fun. We all have our little niche there at the shop. Things we're good at. For me it's monotony (sanding, planing, sanding), Oliver - movies (like Pooh's Christmas while he's perched atop a mountain of moving-blankets), Andrew making it all come together. And boy does he.
Oh, one more hilarity. My parents are gluttons for punishment, particularly in the grandparenting department. They invite Oliver to spend the night and SLEEP WITH THEM every time we're together. On the rare occasion that this comes to pass, there's actually not much sleeping taking place, especially for Grandma and Grandpa. They subjected themselves to the torture of Oliver's elbows and knees one night last week. After the three stooges were all snug for the night - at eleven bells! - Grandma says, "Goodnight sweetheart." Grandpa replies, "Goodnight." Oliver says, "She was talkin to me."
Whoa baby.
