Today was the third week of Ingrid days. I have been taking off Tuesdays to help out Amanda and give her an opportunity to go to the hospital. Ares is in the NICU and just graduated to an open crib! He's bigger than his birth weight now - over three pounds. His skin isn't hot red at every moment but stills gets red when he cries. He's wearing preemie clothes now, little t-shirts! He just needs to learn to eat from a bottle and pass the 35 week mark. I'm getting excited and I cannot imagine how excited Amanda must be.
So Ingrid and I went to the local Children's Museum today. I love that Ingrid calls my tiny hatchback a van. She thinks the shape dictates the name of the vehicle. We only had to stop once one the one mile drive over. Once we got there, we played for almost three hours. She played with one stuffed animal for two of those hours. It was exhausting. Of course she wants me to play with her and I don't want to act like the bored coffee-drinking moms who refuse to look up to see if their kid is kidnapped or anything. I'll wait until I have a kid to do that. Two hours discussing a stuffed ferret (or weasel as she called it) was quite a lot.
Then we went to Portillo's for some gourmet lunching. I learned that dining alone with a kid means that lunch ends when the kid needs to poop, whether you finished that delicious salad or not. So, I dumped half a salad and spent ten minutes in the bathroom, telling "jokes" to the stall door.
These are the types of jokes Ingrid loves: What does a cat put in his drink to keep it cold? Mice cubes.
She branched out into telling the joke about a horse (hay cubes).
I got a good laugh from What is brown and sticky? (a stick).
I just melt when she reaches her little hand up into mine when we walk through a parking lot or climb into a road. I fucking love that kid, poop and all.
