What is the point of gathering one's tired wits when your baby doesn't care that every time you mean to say "Obama" the word "Bush" comes out instead? (Oops.)
All this baby cares about is that we DANCE.
So for now, I am giving up any hope of being articulate or appropriate or tallying the score in a card game, or making my braided rug stay flat, or speaking intelligently about anything.
We just dance.
and Baby Ezra thinks it's hilarious!
Besos! and Tangos!
p.s. this is the only way i can get the braided rug to stay flat.