Toy Story

I've been sick since last Thursday, which has obviously been a bummer.  I used to rarely get sick, but now that I have a toddler, it's hard to avoid the germs.  Yes, I'm blaming the kid.  I've been told that's what they are for.

Managing to go to work (aside from wimping out and taking one half day last week) has been about all I've been able to do.  Ernie has been doing most of the parenting duties, and I've been alternating between sleeping and watching shows on Netflix.  I'm currently working my way through Breaking Bad, my show of choice after finally finishing Dexter recently.  Not having cable really makes me behind on popular culture.   I started watching Dexter back in December and was so excited about how awesome it was but kept it to myself to avoid becoming the butt of jokes.  "When you're done watching Dexter, want to put on powdered wigs and listen to records on my phonograph?"

I'm starting to bounce back though.  I still have a slight cough, but it no longer makes people get wide-eyed and instruct to me to stay away from them.  That's a definite improvement.  I'm having more energy to get stuff done at home too.

My favorite daily chore happens after Matthew goes to bed.  I've pretty much turned our living room into a playroom, and I take great enjoyment in tidying up Matthew's toys at the end of the day.  I have a spot for everything.  Certain toys go in certain containers.  Any item missing, even a small puzzle piece, is hunted down with determination that can be borderline crazy to anyone present. But it makes me happy to bring him downstairs each morning to a nicely arranged play area with everything in its place and waiting for him.  I know it will be destroyed in 10 seconds, but those first 9 seconds of him wandering around and deciding where to begin makes me happy.

This task was kicked to the curb while I was sick.  I laid on the couch and looked at the tornado of toys scattered throughout the room (and spilling into adjacent rooms), but I just didn't have it in me to pick up.  It made me feel bad that when he woke up in the morning he didn't have a nicely arranged area to dive into.  Ernie regularly points out that Matthew probably doesn't even care.

I'm willing to bet that Ernie is right.  I care though.  It makes me happy to spend a little time each night getting ready for our next day of fun.

I'm disappointed this morning because there are two items that are missing.  One of them is a book, of all things.  How does a book go missing?  We're also missing a guy from the farm.  I've been scouring the house with no luck.  I feel incomplete.  Matthew, of course, is fine.  I'm clearly the only one troubled by this.  It's just so vexing!