The Fifth of July

Years ago, when my sister was at the University of Texas studying for her MFA, I visited her and was lucky enough to see her perform in The Fifth of July. On this day, literally July 5, every year since, I am transported back to that small, dark theater watching her act. Though I don't remember very much about the play, it is nonetheless, a lovely memory of sisterly togetherness at a time, both of us post-undergrad, when we were forging a more adult relationship. We are such good friends, and I feel very lucky about that. So, El, even if (as I believe) The Fifth of July was actually a grim tale, I remember it fondly. Chin-chin! Jack felt totally crappy all day yesterday, and 10:30p last night found me laying a cold washcloth on his forehead and reading Chapter 19 of The Prisoner of Azkaban to him. He was just radiating heat and was completely congested but finally fell asleep and remained so until 8a this morning (not so his little brother; grr; good thing he is extremely cute). He managed to complete his new X Wing Starfighter in one afternoon and was terribly proud. You know when you expect a gift to last a littttlllle longer? C'est la vie.

After Mr. O finally managed to pry me from bed this morning, he suggested we make waffles together. Great! He got his apron, helped me do everything (even make Mommy some coffee!), and as I pulled these beauties from the iron he said, "I am not hungry, Mom. I just thought it would be a fun activity." Oh, mon dieu. What will these children do next? I convinced him to take a bite of mine (delicious) and then he willingly ate a half of one. Tom enjoyed some, and hey, waffles freeze well.