Boring is my kind of perfect

My exceptionally wonderful day that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world went like this:

Get home from my very last overnight call ever to find Papa and Jackson on the floor of the kitchen, naming the animal magnets. I promptly copped a squat and joined in the fun with Dean sitting on my hip. John Prine on the ipod.

Winkeyes for breakfast. With syrup.

More lounging in the living room whilst watching Jackson discover how to use objects as stepstools.

Lunch and family naptime.

More lounging on the living room floor interspersed with playtime on the patio.

"Honey, are we boring?" asks Papa. "Yes, but I like being boring," responds Momma. "Uh-huh," adds Jackson. Dean just added his flatulence, which I took to mean he was comfortable with the level of activity at the moment as well.

Quick trip to Home Depot to look for a mosquito killer. Jackson rode in the racecar shopping cart. It was a very big hit.

Dinner at Casa Vallartas. Jack made some new amigos and Momma got her fried ice cream.

Grocery shopping - also riding in the spaceship cart with not one but TWO steering wheels and startling old people with our squeals.

Forty-five minute walk on the powerline with Jack in the backpack carrier and Dean on bunny-patrol. His performance was less than impressive. Most of the conversation revolved around the height of the grass. "It's good for the songbird population, you know. I like it," says Papa. "Makes me itch," says Momma. "Uh-huh," adds Jackson as he steers Papa using his ears as handles.

PJ playtime on the floor in Jackson's room. Two rounds of the Marine Corps Hymn by Papa and Big Monkey, tooth brushing, then bedtime stories. Lights out for Jackson.

Movie time on the couch for Papa and Momma. "Seriously, are we boring?" asks Papa. "Yes." "Should we try to be more creative?" "No." "What's that smell?" "Dean agrees with me."

The end. Life doesn't get much better than this.