I haven’t written much lately. It’s not that there hasn’t been much happening. There’ve been episodes involving toads, bikes, colds, sitters and a church. All blog worthy.

It’s just that my work — my JOB — has been sucking the life out of me lately. And not because I love my job and want to spend every waking moment on it. It’s Dooce-like meshugas.

Let’s see if I can crack the mood with this little anecdote:

Last Friday when I got home from work Ella was very pleased to see me, etc., etc. She gave a half-hearted goodbye to the babysitter, and when I asked her how her day went she started telling me that she doesn’t like … “what’s her name?”

“What’s whose name?

“That person who takes care of me.”

“You know her name. When you need her, what do you call her?”

“Ummmm. I don’t know.”

“When you want something, you say, ‘excuse me …’ who?”

“Excuse me, ummmm, David!”

“No. Her name is Danielle. Not David.”

“Whatever her name is. I do not like her.”

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