Feeling content...

It's Friday. My giant scholarly communications document is done. (I have an acronym for this leviathan, but it's not particularly nice, so I can't write it on a public blog :) And then I'd have to go to Confession...Anyway, I have bellydance tonight, I get to wear my new hip scarf, and I'm going afterwards to have a drink with the girls. Hank is having a much better week at school and is being tremendously adorable and cute. Life is good.

Adding to the goodness is the new ice cream I tried last night. I have a definite sweet tooth, but freakishly enough, I don't really like chocolate. I mean, it's fine, but I don't lust over it. And doesn't that really ruin the point of chocolate, if one does not lust over it? I do like *chocolates*, as in Valentine's Day boxes of chocolates, particularly those with caramel inside, or that orange fluff stuff. But chocolate ice cream, chocolate cake? Eh. It just lacks luster to me. I love cake and ice cream (and cookies...) but I prefer any other flavor than chocolate. So, when Hank and I were at the grocery store this weekend, we made our way to the ice cream aisle. The child has definitely inherited his mother's taste in sweet foods. We stopped at the Edy's section, since they have that Slow Churned variety that they claim is less fattening. *snorts* It's probably an optical illusion, but I prefer to live in such denial. Hank chose a flavor called Mint Cookie Crunch. Mint ice cream with crushed up Oreo cookies. Now Oreo cookies - that's a chocolate I can get behind. So, I grabbed a pint of that for him, but I immediately noticed something else - *Pumpkin* flavored ice cream. Sweet Mother of God. I grabbed it.

And last night, while I was washing the dishes, I took it out of the freezer for the first time. I had already had a sweet-type item at lunch, so I didn't want to eat a full bowl, but that's never been a deterrent to me in the past, so why start now? I helped myself to the silverware drawer, planning to at least have a few spoonfuls. I scooped some up, and stuck it in my mouth as I went to load a plate into the dishwasher.

*angels sing*

I swear it, I nearly fainted. This stuff is GOOD. GOOD. OMG. You have to try some. It's like a frozen bite of pumpkin pie with whipped cream mixed in. Have I mentioned that it is GOOD?

*blissful sigh*

I am a happy, happy, Catholic Librarian. Speaking of happy...Cute Hank anecdotes fit just about anywhere in this blog, so I'll insert one here. As I've mentioned previously, Hank has this thing going on at night in which if he stirs, he brings his pillow and blanket out into the hallway to sleep right outside our door. His room is immediately next to ours, and his bed is a heck of a lot more comfortable than the floor, but this argument is lost on him so we've stopped making it. He used to just come right into our room, which was fine for a while, until we found that he was managing to be up and changing rooms oftentimes before 11 pm, and we'll just say that it was having an impact on *things*. Not good. So, we tried our best to get him to stay in his bed all night, and he wasn't havin' it. 3 year olds tend to have formidable powers of persuasion when they're unhappy, so we had to compromise. He's chosen the hallway and he's happy, so we're happy.

Children Hank's age have just the sweetest little voices. High pitched little things, aren't they? We've had to remind him that if he's up before mommy and daddy, he has to try to stay quiet. So, we now have this little whispering convention going on outside our door first thing in the morning. We're talking, 6 am, people. 4 year olds tend to have a lot to say to themselves, so it's a whisperfest rivaling the arrival of the Others on Lost. Although I'm betting none of them sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" on a regular basis.

Henry gem of the week:

"Mommy, what is Nana Rose doing?"

"She's taking Mitzi out to go potty, sweetheart."

*adorable, preshooler furrowed eyebrows*

"Dogs go potty? Mommy, how do dogs go potty?"

"Oh, well, that's a good question, honey. They don't go on the toilet like big kids do. They just go outside on the ground."

"Oh. Wow. Can I..."

"No, Honey."