Jami Returns, With Eddie's Permission

No, I am not part of the writers' strike, I just haven't made the time to sit and blog. Yes, I'll do the Word Game tomorrow, like I'd planned to last Thursday. No, it's not in your blog, it's in your everyday conversations. Whew. Halloween was a trip. Eddie decided to have a major two-year-old moment and protested costumes. Three adorable costumes and he refused to even come within a yard of any of them. Can't trick-or-treat in street clothes, even if you are the world's most adorable toddler; what to do? I told him I'd just change his clothes and put him in his tuxedo from his uncle's wedding and poof! Bond, Eddie Bond. The little scammer got extra candy from most houses by looking up at the home owner, and with his sweetest little baby voice saying "More, please?" like some overdressed Oliver. Of course it worked. Even with me saying "Oh, please no, he's got so much." His cuteness and manners made them all comply. The next morning, I let him wear his tux, which he now apparently loves, to Gymboree. Let me tell you, you haven't seen adorable until you've seen a tiny Hispanic James Bond scaling the "bumpy wall" and crawling through the tunnel. Currently I am typing this while chanting "Go, Eddie, go Eddie! Go, go, go Eddie!" in the style mostly associated with 80s breakdancers while my son shakes his groove-thang in the living room. If I stop the cheer, even for 3 seconds to take a swig of diet Coke, I am reprimanded by Tiny Breakin' Dictator Man. You don't have a 2-year-old; they have you.