So this weekend was fun. Picked up the girls on Friday evening, had some delivered sushi (Bubble had a baked potato) and then there was card making, ornament decorating, and Santa Claus 3 watching. That movie made me sad I can't drink right now.
We crashed out and then Saturday morning camped out on the sidewalk to be stepped on and watch the parade. Many many pictures coming to the googlepage for that one. I dropped them off Saturday evening and was once again glad that when you actually have kids you've got nine months to prepare and you generally don't get 3 at a time. I would have slept all day except I've actually had to work this week and so there's too much to do.
I don't feel bad for not doing a whole lot of it, though. Steve just came into the office to vacuum and got distracted by the Eve game he hasn't logged out of all day. Apparently there's a lot of autopilot and he's playing with a friend who lives in New Jersey and is currently experiencing a "Wintry mix." Bastard. It's 75 degrees here. I'm in jeans and I'm hot. Guess I should do laundry.
We watched a movie called Vitus last night (http://www.apple.com/trailers/sony/vitus/) about a wunderkind. It takes place in Switzerland in nowish time. The kid who plays Vitus (pronounced vee-tus) is actually a talented Pianist himself. According to the onimscient IMDB.com, he's played with the Tokyo New York City orchestra this year. At the ripe old age of 15. He's generally a genius in other ways and has a hard time with it so he tries to fly and hits his head and that solves the genius part. It's quite good.
It started and we saw this 6 year old boy play the piano as if he we a well-trained adult and who then did higher level math In His Head and I looked at Steve with the horrific thought: we both come from a long line of ridiculously smart people. Having a smart child is almost a foregone conclusion -- but having a musically/athletically/whateverally talented genius child? That's too much pressure on all of us.
Anyway, you should watch it. I've got to go corral my retarded five year old of a cat (he's 2, really, but you should treat your pets as though they're retarded 5 year olds -- all of emotion but none of the brains. They'll never get any smarter than they are) off the table, where he's eating ribbon.