It was sunny this morning and Superbaby wanted to play outside…so I set up the roller coaster from Zia Ria on the grass and dragged the old art desk out of the garage to paint at while he played. By the time I put Superbaby’s shoes on, cleaned the desk, put Superbaby’s shoes back on, let the dog out, put the shoes on again and finally touched brush to paper, a big, fat cloud got comfortable right over my yard and relieved itself. We had to drag everything under the patio and make a fort under the kitchen table instead.

Things you think about when you’re a parent and a fantasy writer:

If your son grows up to be a time traveler and makes the journey to visit you now, what will you ask him to convince yourself that it’s really him?

Will future Superbaby know what color you eventually paint the house and save you time and money on test shades? And will he be so appreciative of what an excellent, fort building mother you are that he’ll offer to do all the painting?

Can he babysit his present toddler self so that his parents can go see a flip’n movie, PLEASE?