A toast to me!
I've been quiet because I've been working day and night making revisions to my next book (note: this document, I've just learned, is called a "blad". It's a booklet with a sample chapter and description, meant to entice the media) But now the edits are all done, and I can breathe again. This publishing business is a lot of hurry up and wait...now that I've killed myself for a week, it'll be a long five months or so until the book is actually released!
In my newest column, I write about how the antics of my toddler, Owen, have taught me never again to speak too soon. (gee, you'd think I'd have learned that with the second kid, huh?)
When my first son was approaching the age of 2, I took pride in the fact that we'd never had to baby-proof a thing. Our house was devoid of outlet covers, toilet locks and gates of any sort. We didn't need them: Jacob was a cautious, laid-back kid whose highest form of mischief was re-arranging our CD shelf.
"Oh, I feel for you," I'd say smugly on the playground to mothers who complained that their junior Houdinis scaled crib walls and tried to hurl themselves out of car windows.
"My little Jacob never climbs the slide the wrong way." (This last part was always said while eyeballing other little hooligans.)
I didn't know it then, but by uttering those words, I might as well have called to the heavens, "Fate, I hereby tempt thee!"
Read the rest of the column. And then come back and let me know--when it comes to kids, what famous last words came back to bite you?
