Oct. 7th, 2003

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Raccoons gave my garbage can a wedgie, but they didn't get it open. I just got all my feral cats trapped so they can be spayed/neutered/repaired. My garden still has a very cool spider. Life is good.

Today is attempt No. 237 to follow a schedule. I am not discouraged. The notion that habits are extremely difficult to change has been much illustrated to me over the past year or so. If we keep trying we will get there. Each time we are a little closer.

Around his third birthday Connor discovered imaginary play. One day he grabbed on to the back of my shirt and announced that we were a train. These days he is a frog nearly as often as he is a little boy. A little green frog with black spots and a propensity to sneeze. If you are lucky he will climb into your lap and annouce that you may pet him gently with one finger, which is our rule for petting small fragile life forms. As for Aidan, he almost seems seven months going on 21. He's already crawling, last night he stood up by himself. I often get the impression that it is my confusion about his capabilities holding him back rather than any natural limitations.

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