A few weeks ago, I found out something interesting. Something very interesting, which of course I’m not allowed to really share…just yet anyway. But last night, after much discussion, we did let the kids in our little secret. I was tempted to tell them they were getting a new brother or sister. I’m pretty sure I would be the only one that would find that funny though (incidentally, a new kiddo? Not Gonna Happen. Ever.)
The hard part about this information is keeping it to myself. I can be very good at secrets, and also terrible at them. The Thing (as I’m calling it), is of mega-awesomesauce proportions, if it happens.
I would love for it to happen.
in the meantime
The Boy and I are going to see Mockingjay Part 1 this afternoon. We are both Hunger Games junkies, having read the books multiple times and watched the movies, multiple times. An internet friend went to the marathon showing of all three movies, which sounds cool – especially since I never saw the first one in the theater – but seven hours in a theater? Even for me who can down an entire half of a season of White Collar in one day, that’s a long time. Still, maybe next year when number four comes out. I sincerely hope the movie lives up to expectation. The last one was good, but not as much as I had hoped it would be. There was something missing from the pre-arena part of the movie. Not enough Peeta. I am firmly in camp Peeta, I’ve never been a big Gale fan. (too much macho. Peeta is a sensitive soul, who thinks about others and therefore balances Katniss nicely.)
I am also reading Diary of Anne Frank with the Boy, since that is what his English class is reading. He could use a little ‘kick’ to get his homework going. For such a genius of a kid, he really despises English class. Which works out since it’s the one area of school where I was awesome. I read Tolstoy the way other people read Nicholas Sparks novels; with pure joy.
So the Boy will be doing his homework with mom from now on. Go English loving literature obsessed me.
The weather here is so dreary (when isn’t Seattle weather dreary?), I just have to keep telling myself it could be worse. We could live in Buffalo.