Thursday, August 27, 2009

Greased lightning

Marco came in to a baby, face down on the dining room table, pushing up on her hands and scrabbling with her feet to gain a toe-hold. She was covered in butter.

I know. I want the picture, too.

So while I was enjoying an hour to myself at the bookstore, glutted for choice, Marco was wiping down a greased baby with paper towels.