Some Pig

I spent my afternoon sitting in a chair with a snotty, snoring baby on my lap, because that is where she finally fell asleep and I was afraid she would wake up if I got up. I sat there for three and a half hours, getting up only once for about two minutes to let the dog in, take the meat out of the oven, and pee.

I could do this--and Poppy could sleep peacefully in my lap in the living room--because A. took the boys to the circus. It's a small traveling circus that does a performance every year in the school gymnasium. It's apparently a pretty good circus. Last year, Cubby and Charlie went with A. and came home with a picture of the two of them with a python draped around their shoulders.

Better them than me.

This year the python wasn't in attendance, but Roscoe the pig was. In a fun coincidence, today was Roscoe's birthday. He turned five.

He's big for his age.

Jack loved the pig and ran right up to it. Charlie was not such a fan. A. mentioned that Roscoe seems to relish his life as a circus performer, perhaps because of all the spilled popcorn he gets to eat.

I would have liked to have seen the circus, but I probably would have had a similar reaction to Charlie's when faced with a large pig on a pedestal, so I suppose it's for the best that I stayed home.