As of today I have abandoned my DSL, my satellite TV, and my standard phone line.  Now we are all cable, all the time.  Which is nice, because now when we cower in the basement during tornado warnings, we’ll be able to watch the neighbor’s roof blowing off on TV. 

Also because it’ll save $50 a month. Which, in our personal War on Poverty, is significant.  It’s a week’s worth of freelance for me, or a night filming a hockey game for The Producer.  It’s a week’s worth of groceries, if you don’t count diapers.   

Speaking of diapers, I can not wait until Boy-o potty learns. When Queenie was his age, not only would she say “almost 2″ in a tiny little voice when asked how old she was, she would happily sit on her potty, diaper or no, and occasionally even tinkle in it.

Boy-o, when asked how old he is, says “uh-uh.” He uses the potty alternately as a hat and as a garage for his hot wheels. And when we try to sit him on it, he adamantly insists that it is suddenly covered in razor blades and inhabited by a “bleccchhhhhy” which is about to steal his soul via his butt. Or at least that’s how we’re reading it.

So I thought maybe I’d buy him an appropriate book for his birthday. However, like many of my plans, I put it off until it was too late - Boy-o’s birthday party is Sunday. But if you want to stop by, bearing a birthday book featuring a bare bum, be my guest!

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