Wondy, as in wonderful. I actually do feel that perky because I've had the nicest, most relaxing morning alone in my house. I made some fresh ricotta and then some coriander sugar poached figs because the figs are perfectly in season right now and really, these two recipes combined....well, you might know just how much I love the pairing. Have mercy! Go get some figs now and make these. Incredible!
I also cleaned out all my kitchen drawers while talking to my mom, and both of those activities just couldn't have been more enjoyable. The drawers were crumb-infested mayhem and really needed some discipline, and my mom and I don't often get a long, leisurely, uninterrupted time in which to talk. We both mourned Nora Ephron's death and just shot the breeze too. I told her two hilarious recent Oliver-the-three-year-old-lying-phase stories which I will share with you too, in case you need a chuckle.
All young children go through stages in which they lie. Jack had his months of fibbing, and so Oliver's turn approached without surprise. However, he really lies with aplomb, ease and inventiveness. Knowing Oliver as I do, I shouldn't be surprised by this, but nonetheless, I have been just that. He is such an incredibly charming little guy but boy is he mischievous. When I think about his having been born on St. Patty's Day and all the raucousness it often entails, I really think Oliver will make the day proud. I can fully envision his as a college freshman, the life of the party, doing stupid stuff like keg stands. I just hope he stays smart about it all. Good lord.
In any case, this past weekend, he did, as I mentioned, have trouble sleeping in the hotel. He loves his crib and is not yet ready for a big boy bed. Fine, fine, but it does make it hard for us and him to rest. On Saturday night, he was being particularly irritating in turning the light on and off as fast as possible -the lightning effect- while Jack was trying to get to sleep. Finally, Jack donned his eye mask, turned over and started snoring. I tucked Oliver in, again, and headed back to my room. 15 minutes later, I went to check: he was sitting up in his bed, light on, surrounded by pillows and reading the iPad that we'd left in there for a bedtime story-on-tape. He said, emphatically, "Jack made me do it." Jack was sawing logs. I took the iPad away, turned the light off, tucked him in again, threatened to take something away if I had to return and headed back to my room, knowing I soon would.
15 minutes later: I go in, the light is on again, he's sitting up, calmly unwrapping a stick of gum. I said, "Oliver, you must be kidding, give me that gum now." He said, "Jack made me do it" with such assuredness that you might believe him if Jack still wasn't in a deep slumber with the eye mask on.
Long story short, I had to cuddle next to him until he fell asleep before I knew he would stay there. Good grief.