Man-project

I believe that face is due to wanting, but not getting, more hot dogs.

Lyla's nursery door has never been aligned properly, so you could only close it halfway and even then it would go "Crrrump." For the better part of Lyla's first 19 months of life, I did nothing to fix the problem. "Nigh-night, Lyla," we'd say before crrrumping the door shut. Crying in the middle of the night? Crrrump. What's wrong honey? Oh, here's your binky. Crrrump.

Speaking of class and sophistication, remember the window air conditioning unit in the nursery because our central air is more central to the downstairs than upstairs? Well Julie fights an internal battle every time we don't turn it on. "Is Lyla too hot? Oh my gosh. The monitor says it's 76 degrees in there."

"Children all over the world survive heat in excess of 76 degrees."

"But do you think she's too hot?"

"I think you could fry an egg on her face."

"I'm going in there."

"No you're not."

"Yes!"

Crrrump.

"WAAAAAAAAAAH!"

So yesterday I fixed the door, my first man-project of summer. First I told it how the crrrumping made me feel and asked it to stop. When it didn't respond, I sawed some sense into it, and now it functions properly.

Next Julie wants me to paint the front porch. I think that can wait until July.