Recreation

The Boston Children's Museum has a gigantic climbing structure that looks like God spilled her whole sack of Fritos and they froze in mid-air. The girls go wild at the mere mention of it.

The only problem is that in a place so full of kids you'd hope to see a bunch of exhausted, disheveled parents exuding a vaguely familiar stink, the kind of parents that could boost a similarly-tired person's self-esteem. But the opposite is true: the place is teeming with ridiculously zesty parents – young, clever, muscle-y, rested like they just got back from a weeklong retreat in Moorea for hot childless people. Could there be a magic beauty compound in the bubble room? We'll never know, because the girls will never climb down from the Frito structure.

Pet

Chloe's been asking for a pet lately since she found out her beloved cat actually belongs to the neighbors which explains why we never had to feed it. We feel somewhat guilty for our gleeful perpetuation of that lie, so we are actually considering her request. She wants something that could protect her from the monsters that lurk in her room at night. "What about a goldfish?" she said, "they see in infrared light. What could possibly be cooler than that?" She said she has a much better idea that a stupid old goldfish.

Baby spider

The girls found a spider in their room at 6 this morning and it might as well have been a rhinoceros, exciting and dangerous and impossibly exotic. Their screeches of delight forced us deeper under the covers, as did the trampling of footsteps to get a flashlight for "spying it," as did the cries of "it jumped on my arm! it wants to pinch me!" You'd think that last one would get us up, but no; the baby was up every two hours all night and we both only half-heard these things, from a dream.


Finally a sound like the roof caving in roused us (and the baby again, of course), a sound caused by Emily thinking the spider had trapped her on the bed and the only solution was to throw a nearby large bucket of plastic dinosaurs in its general direction, which was also the wall shared by our sleeping heads on the other side. 

The spider, of course, turned out to be a vicious beast nearly as large as Chloe's pinkie nail. Upon finding out it was possibly a baby, they immediately decided it was unbearably cute and they named it Pinchy Pinchy and promised to take care of it forever, their whole lives, always, vows which lasted at least until breakfast. Where is the spider now? We don't know - with the baby's diaper and the plastic stegasauruses and the overturned potties we forgot about it, and can only assume it retreated back for its next appearance, at nap time or next week, with babies of its own.