It’s Donatello, actually, and I believe he was a Happy-Meal gift from Bebe’s crazy aunt, Owlie. I noticed that this morning, as I was microwaving Khalid’s cereal, and HF’s matter of fact reply was, “Of course, he’s keeping it safe.”
Which brings me to an interesting realization- I, Abez, am nearing 28, am the mother of 1.9 children (Mystery Bean is due in abt 3 weeks) and the maintainer of my own lil house, and it is guarded by Ninja Turtles. And populated with a thriving community of boxes. And stocked with things like granola bars and frozen strawberries and four different kinds of cereal. And I have wall to wall carpeting, and one sofa, and no dining table, and no phone and no internet access, but my cabinets are meticulously organized, except for the ones where I have crammed things in and then closed the door real fast so things don’t topple back out.
I am One. Weird. Adult.
Also, I am nine months pregnant, Alhamdulilah, and getting to that point in pregnancy where I’m running out of space for things like eating, breathing, and maneuvering through doors. Mystery Bean will be due soon, InshaAllah, and sad but true, that will mean even less blogging. I’m trying to not feel guilty about that, since my primary obligations seem to belong mostly to my lil tribe. 🙂
Speaking of whom, the natives are getting restless, and are heading my way with a spatula in one hand. Time to save and publish before all is lost in the ambush.
[…] And here’s the post for nine months pregnant with Iman. […]