Just call me headless chicken

I awoke from such a pleasant slumber this morning as Oliver and T climbed into bed with me. They'd spent the past half hour in Ol's bed having such a darling conversation about many of Ol's made-up recurrent characters. So I'm snuggling O and then feel J scooch in on my other side. No sooner had I wished him good morning than he head-butted me in the head so hard I was in a full state of stun. This was an accident, of course; Jack has never been one up for coordination award consideration. But good god, man, how long is it going to take to keep others' personal space in mind? Swear I thought I might be bleeding, and I had a headache for the next hour. 7$@;$$9! To the gym, the bookstore (airplane fare for the kids), the market (Easter basket supplies) and the longest line I've ever seen there. I started to wonder if DC was under some threat from afar or some pending natural disaster I've been too busy to read about. It made me wonder if my jelly beans, chocolate eggs and impulse-buy hydrangea weren't preparatory enough.

I also stopped at the Italian market for a pizza crust for dinner and spied this spinachy treat. Bought it, ate it, cursed the horrible drivers that are out in full force today and headed to Ol's school for early pick-up per spring break. Whee