wooblah...

...is Molly's new word of the day.

Roughly translated, it means, "Why yes, Mother, I'd love to have my bath now and after considering your offer I've decided to accept and therefore am in agreement that I will not be peeing or pooping en route from the living room floor here to the kitchen sink. However, I smirk at your ridiculous attempt to prevent such occurance by loosely holding a diaper against my bum. For surely you are aware that I could do to said diaper what the rogue wave did to the cruiseship in that action movie you and Daddy thought I wasn't listening to last night. And furthermore, I can't help but notice that you still haven't cleaned the bathtub so that we may share our first bath together, you lazy woman."

Her baths are getting more interesting in the baby tub. She's too big for the newborn side with it's reclining slope and too little for the infant/toddler side with its little seat. I'm not certain I can negotiate a squirmy wet baby in the big bath with one and a half arms, but I think I'll try sometime when Shane's here as backup. It's one of my Mommy daydreams that I've always envisioned.

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Molly's little blessing ceremony at the Church of LDS was nice enough. She wailed through the whole prayer, which amused me a little. I thought, "Yep, she's a pagan." They had a mother's room, which I thought was awesome, although it was very spartan: just two armchairs, which faced opposite eachother. I guess they thought nursing moms would hide from eachother? I was alone anyway. There were two or three other babies, but they all had bottles. Damn-I'd planned a longer post, but Princess Pink Pooh Pajamas calls.