Candy Baby

Alexander and I have invented a new game. It's called “Kiss the Baby!” Basically, I look him in the face and say “Kiss the Baby!” and then I kiss him. Then he smiles, laughs, or says “gooooo.” Once he does that, I say “Kiss the Baby!” again and kiss him again. This goes on and on until it's time for the lightening round (“I am SO GOOD at lightening rounds!” quick, what's that from?), where I pepper his whole head with kisses and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

We'd just finished playing when Monstro came home last night. Alexander was panting from the exertion of our game. “He looks so happy!” Monstro said, reaching for him.

“Give him a minute,” I suggested.

“To come down from his happy high?” Monstro asked. I laughed.

Katie saw us on Saturday night and sent me an e-mail about how I'm a different mother from what I was last month. It helps that Alexander has shifted into what Katie calls the “candy stage.” He's becoming so sweet I just want to eat him up. But I think DCF would have something to say about that (I've watched a lot of “Judging Amy” since his birth, and have learned about these things), so instead I just look at him hungrily and commence another session of “Kiss the Baby!”

Of course, this is just a placeholder game until baby is big enough to play “Go Get a Hug,” but heck, if you've got to pass some time, this is a great way to do so. Especially since “Lost” was a rerun this week, and the second season of “Project Runway” is over and done.


Yesterday was my second wedding anniversary with Monstro. It will probably be remembered as “remember the wedding anniversary when you nearly burnt down the house cooking Steak Diane?” But that's OK — marriage is all about being able to fondly reminisce about your own screw-ups. And anyway, the house didn't burn down, and it gave us a moment to remember the time that Dusty and Becca nearly burnt down our Chico apartment when they put fireworks on Drivler's birthday cake. This is how Monstro sang Happy Birthday to Drivler that year:

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Drivler,
Now take that outside.

… which they did, with not so much as a scorch mark on the ceiling to commemorate the event. Very impressive. And that cake tasted almost as good as the Steak Diane I cooked last night. There's just something about flambe that makes food taste that much better. Maybe it has something to do with the engendered adrenalin. I don't know.

For those keeping track, here was last night's menu:

Appetizer: Smoked oysters on baguette slices

Main Course: Steak Diane

Sweet Potatoes Anna (my own creation)

Tomatoes Vinagarette on Boston lettuce

Dessert: Strawberry Souffle