It was a strange and surreal weekend here at Casa Booski. Fun, but strange.

Friday night, Jill went to the WNBA game, while Noah and I relaxed at home. I’d had a long week and was very happy that she was willing to go without me.

Unfortunately, I made that one grave error in food judgment, which had me up for an excessive amount of misery in the middle of the night.

Still, Saturday morning, Noah and I got up and braved the crowds at the local library, at least for 20 minutes. It was honestly a zoo, and of course the first book he picked up and wanted me to read was a book for preschool/early elementary age kids on family members dying.

I’m glad there ARE such books, but I wasn’t up for reading him one at that particular moment. When he got distracted, I put it up on top of the shelves and opened a book about animals instead.

We adjourned to the playground, where Noah had a blast and I had fun chatting with the mom of a 4-and-a-half year old princess in extremely worn sparkling pink mary janes. (The third pair she’d nearly worn out so far.)

Noah decided that it was time to brave the spinning thing, so he stood on it, clinging to the pole, as I turned it slowly. He laughed and loved it…until he let go.

Then he fell on his face, first on the step, and then to the ground. Tears. Blood. Screaming. Fortunately, it was a very small cut, teeth against lip, and the drama and bleeding were done within about 2 minutes.

The next big event was my taking the subway to the airport for dinner.

I know. What???

Dave had been in Las Vegas, celebrating mutual non-blogging friend Richard’s 40th birthday with Richard and Scott. He had a 3 hour layover in Atlanta on his way home to Boston. Just enough time to get out of security, eat dinner and catch up, and go back in through security.

Still. Saturday night at the airport is an unquestionably odd experience.

(Which, now that I think about it, is actually perfect for having dinner with someone whose warped sense of humor has matched and challenged mine for more than 20 years.)

In the meantime, Jill and Noah colored the picture he started the previous week at Sunday school — a life size outline of Noah. The theme of that class was “God Made Me” but Noah has interpreted that to mean that this is a picture of God. “I coloring God! This Mommy and I coloring God!”

On Sunday, Noah continued his new favorite Sunday School activity: stalking the big kids. In this case, that was 4 year old Liam. The previous weekend, it was 9 year olds Colin and Ava. “I helping big kids!” (Fortunately, both of the 9 year olds have younger siblings, so they were very kind about Noah’s “help.”)
Having steadfastly refused to nap on Saturday, Noah and I both had marathon naps on Sunday, while Jill spent the afternoon cleaning the bathrooms. Are Noah and I lucky, or what?