Why is the rum gone?

**I love knitters! I tell you all that I'm making socks for my boy, and everybody's first question isn't 'Do you want to spoil the boy?' it's 'What color?'

The answer: Rainbow--Meillenweit multi-colored--blue/purple/olive/red/orange/dark yellow. In fact, it's very similar to the Jitterbug ones he had to give up:-)

**One of the Juniors I had last year as a sophomore too came up to me and said, "Ms. Lane--I know you make stuff for other people. Would you make me something?"

"Why sure, Sal, if I can. YOu know the Seniors take precedence, but if I can fit it in, I'd love to. What do you want?"

"I want a hat. It has to be big and stretchy for my dreadlocks...and because I have an enormous head for a white guy, and, well mostly because of my dreads."

"Okay, fair enough. Any special color?"

"Purple. And green. Yeah. PUrple and green. That would be great."

"Fair enough." And at this point I'm thinking your basic 4x4 rib, xtra long, totally simple, do it in my sleep, finish it in a week of stoplights hat.

"Oh yeah!" (Can you hear the other shoe, getting ready to splat its guts out on the floor of my subconcious?) "And can I have one of those PHAT cables you put on your daughter's sweater last year? That was AWESOME!"

For those of you who weren't here? That was the reversible cable from A Cardigan for Arwen.

"Sure," I said weakly, wondering not only how I was going to make that, but where that rip in the space/time continuum would be that would allow me to finish it. "I'll do my best."

Urp.

**Yesterday was so gorgeous, and we couldn't find the Cave Troll's shoes, and, well, basically we decided it would be better for all involved if he and Ladybug spent their time outside playing in the sunshine instead of getting shuttled from place to place--mom had LOTS of errands to do, and they would be task-baggage that I just didn't need.

This sounded like a great idea, until we heard the water running. Mate, sitting on the couch right next to T, start's calling T's name, loudly, aimed outside, towards, of course, the Cave Troll, whose name is not Big T, but, well, you know how it is when you're used to yelling at one kid and that name just sort of rolls off the tongue, right? So Mate is hollering 'T! T! Turn off the water!!!' and I'm running outside before the two kids can get their clothes soaked when, in spite of the spiffing new sunshine, it was really only 62 degrees.

I needn't have worried.

Yes, the water was on, yes, Ladybug was holding the hose over the old swimming pool, and yes, Cave Troll was getting into the kiddie pool, but I didn't have to worry about their clothes at all.

They were both naked.

I stood there, stupidly, repeating, "Why are your clothes gone?" Over and over again, until Cave Troll looked up and said, "So we can get in the water, mom!"

Oh yes. I knew that.

Ladybug tried to slide down the little baby slide on her little fat wet bottom and stuck all the way down. I turned to Mate with an armload of shit to take on my errands and said, "I'm outta here. Give them ten minutes and then make them come in before they catch pneumonia. Luvyabyebye."

Mate, who by this time had stopped yelling at Big T came up next to me and was looking outside at his naked children, playing in the winter sunshine.

"Why are their clothes gone?"

CIOU!!

**I got the wrong kind of diaper for the Cave Troll.

Don't get me wrong, he's very very potty trained, but he likes his diaper when he goes to sleep at night. One night in sixty, he actually uses it as he sleeps.

Anyway, sitting in the baby aisle was this sort of innocuous looking package that I thought was his usual pull ups, but which was, in fact, some sort of bizarre grown-up diaper with this paper boxer-short wrapped around the diaper. I realized this when, in one of his one day in sixty nights moments, he wet his last regular pull up in the middle of the last night, and Mate and I were stuck ripping the paper boxer off the diaper at three in the morning.

Anyway, I'd forgotten all about this horrific anomaly (three a.m., go figure!) until I got home from my walk this evening. We'd taken the kids to the park earler--good fun, actually, although Ladybug sprang a fever this evening, making me all worried about west-nile virus. Its probably just spring fever--kids tend to spike them this time of year. Wierdish, but not too worrisome, I hope. Anyway, we got home and I went for a longer walk, and when I got home from my walk, the Cave Troll was all washed and ready for bed--except he was wearing those weird paper boxer shorts, and hollering, "Mom! I need a real diaper. You need to go to the store and get me a real diaper!"

"Why are your clothes gone?" I asked, wondering why it sounded so familiar.

"Mom!" He said indignantly, "You need to get your keys, get into your car, and go get me a diaper. I can't wear this! It's ugly!"

"Why are your clothes gone?" I asked again, but I was grabbing my keys on the way out to my car.

I mean, the Cave Troll speaketh, right?