The first text I ever sent Mikey was "How competitive are you?"* Weird. I know. But I was looking for a team mate for a fairly intense and extremely competitive scavenger hunt. We didn't win, but we were close.
Yesterday I challenged Mikey to a kick scooter short-track race around my parent's tennis court. We decided to do five laps. No line crossing. As we were nearing the end of the fifth (and fastest) lap, Mikey's scooter got caught in a sidewalk crack (this was my chance!) but in my attempt to dodge his scooter (and then his body after he hopped off) I was literally launched out of my sandals and was sent sailing into the fence. My head hit first, but my arm went through two of the slats and was stuck there until Mikey pried the fence apart to set me free. Neither of us won. And maybe it was a good thing because that way no one got gloating rights.
My wedding ring doesn't fit on my finger anymore. But I'm mostly sad about my sandals (see here) that were sacrificed for the (almost) win.
In other news, Ada is no longer content just crawling around to explore. She is now bent on finding furniture, boxes, bags, toys (anything, really) to pull herself up on and take in the view. Also, she crawled up a full flight of stairs yesterday.
I'm thinking the both of us should be put on leashes. (And that I should learn to limit my parenthesis usage.)
* (His response, by the way, was something like, "Well that depends. Are we talking stamp collecting or sports?")