Stream of consciousness blah blah blah, killing time until I can reasonably go to bed. I have recently gotten (yes, my British friends, gotten. It’s a real word. Deal with it.) around to noticing that other Mamabloggers name their children in code: Busy Boy, Busy Girl, the Preschooler Formerly Known as Busy Baby (Busymom); Thing 1 and Thing 2 (Crouching mommy, hidden laundry); Bumblebee and Sweet Potato. This gets me wondering if I should be attempting to conceal the identity of the Demon Spawn, since I frequently name the town where we live, and anybody who lives around here knows about the American and her grouchy husband and weirdly-named offspring. But I can’t possibly come up with anything as witty as the other Mamas have – can’t even rely on their nicknames, as I use them interchangeably – they are both, by turns, Peanut, Boo-boo, Scooter, and whatever else pops into my head. One exception: Firstborn is exclusively Ignatz, and Secondbord is exclusively Sniglet, but you can’t be expected to remember which is which, can you? The sainted husband would naturally be something like He Who Must Be Humored, but I bet that’s already been used by someone else.
Why, oh why can’t I come up with things that are still funny and apt after some time has passed? Other people do it.
By the way, Tony says there is no excuse for not writing every day. If I link his name, he will hear it, come read this, and realize that if this is the best I can come up with, well, there’s my excuse.