and we will fill it with sangria, I think

I have so many things I want to write about--how happy I am that Preppy is back as a fashion statement, what we did for our anniversary, how my mother-in-law baked a BOSTON CREAM PIE for us last night, how conscious I have become of every frivolous dime I spend--but Charlie woke me up at 3:30 and wanted me to lay down with him, and because we are opposed to letting the boys get in our bed at night (as they might decide that's where they want to sleep all the time), I dragged myself out of my comfy pillow-top California King and smooshed in with him in his little twin bed and slept there until 6:30, with the bedrail poking me in the back. Every time I tried to get up (a feat of Olympic gymastic proportions, by the way, with the bedrail there), Charlie would wake up and say sleepily and sadly, 'No, Mama, lay down' and pat me with his little fat baby hand. Then he would pull the blanket over both of us and arrange his binket and put his thumb in his mouth and pat me again or press his forehead to mine and doze off. Except for the shooting pain in my leg and the exhaustion today, it was tremendously cute.

But now I am beat, and we are going to the pool this afternoon to celebrate the Official Last Day of Summer, which makes me even more tired just to think of, so instead of any post of substance, I have this Funny Charlie Moment for you.

The other night, when I was reading him his bedtime stories, he picked out Maisy's Pool, in which Maisy the mouse gets out her inflatable wading pool. Charlie pointed at the picture of the pool and said, 'We have a pool like that.'

'Yes, but we don't call it a wading pool, do we?'

He shook his head.

'What do we call our pool?'

He thought for a moment and then said, 'A booze pool!'

I swear I never called it that. Not once. But I will now.