Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Frost, Facebook and Footed Pajamas

This morning I walked Mr. T to school--it's lovely out. Our first serious frost of the season. We strolled through the field and marveled at the white dusting on everything.

On the Catmint in my garden.

Even on baby oak trees.

Last night my boy Dusty came over to walk me through Facebook. Dusty is one of Mr. D's varsity baseball players and we hired him to work for us all summer--he was Mr. D's "Get Out of Your Honey Do List Free" card. Whatever I wanted/needed done? Dusty did it. Love that kid. My sons ADORE Dusty, he's like Jesus to them. So when he walked in last night, they began jumping and leaping and screaming and grabbing on to him with all the enthusiasm of Christmas morning.

After the excitement ebbed a little, Dusty sat down and demonstrated Facebook to me. I'm working on a YA novel and need to know what the kids these days are up to (yes, I say this with a crotchety old woman's voice). What I learned is this: if I'd had Facebook in high school, I might not have ever left my computer. Such fun! Poking your friends, casting Harry Potter spells, linking up to your pals, starting clubs, leaving graffiti and bumper stickers and buying virtual drinks. It's like an interactive yearbook. Why there's even rankings for "most popular" and "sweetest" and "most athletic!" I spent an hour roaming around Dusty's page and then moving on to explore his friends' pages. I feel better equipped to incorporate this in my book and the sixteen year old lurking within is a bit jealous that she can't play with Facebook longer. Ah well. Maybe to indulge her someday I'll go back to Facebook and create my own profile: Kimbre Taylor, age 16, Junior at Southwest High School. I'll put smiley faces and bumper stickers all over my page and chuck books at people every day. Okay, probably not, but it was fun research.

I love footed pajamas, they are cozy and sweet on small children. Mr. G has several pairs passed down to him from his brothers and since his room is frigid, I've been putting them on him at night for extra warmth and because he looks so darn cute in them. Last night I heard a scuffle and a scream and then a weird scuffle-scrape-slide for about 5 minutes before he turned up on my side of the bed. Naked. Completely naked. His bare white skin glowed in the light from my alarm clock and he whimpered. I sat up and discovered his underpants and the footed pajamas scrunched around his ankles. Hence the strange sound of him hobbling across the house to reach me. He can get the pajamas down to go potty, but he can't get them back up. What I have forgotten is that unlike Mr. G, the other 2 bachelors were NOT night trained when they wore these jammies. So today? I'll be shopping for flannel sheets and 2-piece winter pajama sets for my baby.


  1. Oh, the image of Mr. G. hobbling into the room to climb into your bed is almost too sweet to bear.


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