2002-09-17
I'm a little sad about never (hardly ever) writing here. I'm busy, you see.
But....
Clay was getting this fringe at the nape of his neck that made both B and me think independently of Paul Williams. (That's the kind of thing that reaffirms one's suspicions that one has married the correct person, I think.) It was driving me crazy, so we got out the clippers--B did the honors--and sheared the fringe off. In a moment of rare sentimentality, I scooped up the hairs and put them in an envelope marked "Clay's first haircut 9.15.02."
He's getting kind of huge. Sunday morning B brought him downstairs and for some reason, he--Clay--just looked enormous to me.
He has also started screaming. High-pitched screeches of exuberance. Why? Presumably, because he can. It gets a little embarrassing in public. On Saturday the three of us went to the snazzy new mall to get him some new clothes using store credits I got from returning ugly baby gifts. I had a $79 credit to the Gap so we struggled to pick out roughly that much overpriced stuff while Clay screeched away. Finally, B took him out of the store while I went to check out. I waited in line, got to the front, and discovered the credit slip was nowhere to be found; it must've fallen from my pocket as I'd checked it an hour earlier. Ugh.
B told me that as Clay screamed his head off, a passerby stopped and told him--Clay--to curb his enthusiasm. I'm sorry I missed that.
A couple of weeks ago we tortured Clay by squeezing him into the santa suit B's mom made for B in 1960. See pics:
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