You can't spell "balloon" without B-O-O

Things have been kinda quiet and routine on the home front this week, so I apologize for the lack of updates since the weekend.

I took Boo out to lunch today. She does really well in restaurants-- and restaurants are wising up to the needs of parents by providing crayons and coloring books. Boo likes to color, although she's limited to some Abstract Expressionist-esque scribblings. So she amused herself by coloring all over a local paper while I grabbed some food (she eats at day care, so she had milk and a couple of bites of my food). We played little games-- one was where she tilted her head back, and then I blew really hard on her face, and for some reason she thought that was just AWESOME, so she kept tilting back and giggling her little fanny off.

We were leaving and the waitress comes over with a pink balloon for Alison. "Oh, we just all think she is the CUTEST thing!"

So I'm carrying her and this balloon, which I have strapped to her wrist, out to the car, and of COURSE we're having a windstorm, so my skirt is doing the Marilyn Monroe thing while I'm juggling Boo and this balloon, which has become Boo's Newest Bestest Friend EVAH, and the BNBFE balloon is flopping around and threatening to take flight. I get everybody jammed in the car without mooning Lower Saucon Township and hit the road. Boo's holding the ribbon to the balloon and bapping it on her face, and every 300 yards she's losing her grip on the string and bursting into a wail until I get it jammed back into her little hands, and finally I realize that I have to steer, so I tell her to wait until we get home. She wails brokenheartedly, and then suddenly the sound is a bit different, and I look back, and she's crying, but there's NOT A SINGLE TEAR ON HER CHEEKS.

I'm like, "are you FAKING?"

She stops wailing, looks at me for a second, and then gives me a grin.