Welcome to the way my two-year-old has been handling his mama's bedrest sentence. My mother-in-law is staying with us but, when they're done running to the park and finished their favorite shared snack of apples and yogurt, he parks himself on an ottoman in front of the couch, rocks back and forth as fast as he can while wickedly grinning (in the cutest way possible), steals all the blankets, and pretends to be a ghost. He also keeps all his plastic animals in a bucket at my feet, tells me fifteen stories an hour about his dinosaurs, and always ask for his "crochet!" (yarn and an unsharpened pencil) since I've been crocheting up a storm this week. Not that I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure he is the cutest child who has ever lived and I cannot believe that, at the latest, he will be a big brother eight days from now.