On Their Way. . .

Photos, that is. Christmas is coming, too - but so far I'm ignoring it and hoping for the best. I am beginning to feel that Christmas should be like the Olympics, on an every two or four year basis, so maybe we'd appreciate it.

But I digress. Yesterday, I had time to find the cable to connect the camera to the computer and upload photos slooooooooowly. Kodak EasyShare seems to work at the speed of that Tim Conway character from the old Carol Burnett Show. Next step is to get a few of them onto the blog. Maybe Sunday or Monday.

Friday after speech thereapy, Micah and I went to Freehold Mall to meet with Bobbi, our former social worker for both kids' adoptions. I had baby quilts to hand off to her, purchased from my mother's friend and she had a check for me. And the mall had a carousel that fascinated Micah. I financed two rides, one on the lower level, one on the upper level. Yes, there are such things as bi-level carousels, be still the two-year old's heart. Micah was sufficiently awed that he held onto both handles from the moment the bell rang and the ride started to the second it came to a stop, and did not protest at having the seat belt put around him.

There was also a neat little kids play area directly in front of the carousel, and Micah loved that as well. It had seating for parents around the edges and stroller parking by the opening, so I was suitably impressed. Until a bratty little blonde heathen (a girl of about four years old) grabbed Micah's band holding the BAHA off his head as he was climbing up the tiny little slide.

For being old, having arthritic knees, and being somewhat reluctant to yell at children who are not my own, when it concerns a little device that is worth much more than its $4K price tag, I was amazingly fast and loud as I got to the crime scene, telling the little monster, "NOOOOOO, you don't touch that!" She barely had time to curl her evil little fingers around the headband part before I took it away from her.

And for those of you who are ready to spring to her defense, it wasn't simple curiosity, this child looked around, then made her grab. She was being horrible, I saw the evil gleam in her eye so she knew full well that she was doing something wrong.

Of course her oblivious mother was sitting outside of the play area at a food court table, having a half-caff double latte with another mommy-type, both with strollers for infants with them. (Nice supervision, can we say "Amber Alert?") I nearly went over to have a quick word with them, but thought the better of it since I still was in the "Excuuuse me, the ill-mannered spawn that I believe is yours just yanked my precious son's hearing aid off his head. If it happens again, she will feel my wrath and so will you" mode. The BAHA was unharmed, poor Micah was a little rattled thinking that he had done something wrong, and that little brat went off to torment others, smirking at me while I loaded our stroller.

I could have cheerfully wrung her neck, but wished upon her a horrible adolescence filled with acne and menstrual cramps. Somehow having a degree of specificity like that makes it easier to just get over it. That, and blogging about it.