Proof

Ever get really paranoid and wonder, just for a moment, if your kids are actually yours? I wondered about this when S & J were born. I practically saw them being lifted out of me, for Pete's sake, but I wondered anyway. I think it's one of those irrational fears we develop from watching 1) the news 2) afterschool specials.

I don't wonder about it much, almost never, since S is a little Danger Dad Mini-Me and J, well, sort of looks EXACTLY LIKE ME when I was her age.

But now I have concrete, absolute, no-doubt-about-it proof that J & S are mine, all mine.

I will question no longer.

We were reading the "Elmo Loves You" book that talks about how much Elmo loves "you" and other stuff like "birds love singing, babies love noise, Ernie loves his rubber duckie", etc. and at the end it asks "Now what do you love?"

J's answer?

"Mama, I love words."

'nuf said.

As for S, a picture is worth a thousand words:

That there is guacamole that he is snarfing down like it's his last meal. MY homemade guacamole. The guacamole that has fresh garlic and real lime juice and kosher salt and loads of Vidalia onion and home-grown tomatoes and lots and lots and lots of cayenne. (I buy it by the pound. Really.)

He even asked for a SPOON.

Mine, all mine.