Let us progress to something a little more cheerful, shall we?


Andrew's second birthday was Tuesday, and Kip and I took the day off. We had intended to take him to the Como Park Zoo and out for a picnic, but the weather was cool, so we opted for Camp Snoopy at the Mall of America instead.


Andrew thought this was a perfectly fine idea. He insisted on walking into the mall (he's gotten to the point where he will condescend to hold on to my finger when we're anywhere near scary moving cars, but he lets go as soon as the coast is clear), then pushing his stroller into the mall, though he had to stand on tippytoes to do it. We finally convinced him that just walking was a better idea, and Daddy would push the stroller.


The kid cracks me up. He doesn't walk anywhere so much as swagger. You expect him to swagger up to the bar and order a whiskey. Straight up.


Anyway, he greatly enjoyed Camp Snoopy. Since it was a Tuesday afternoon, there was hardly anyone there, so we just turned him loose and followed him.


He rode on the carousel twice, and preferred the stationary horse to the up-and-down kitty. After a few ups and downs, he leaned over and held on to me through the rest of the ride. He also rode (with Daddy) on a choo-choo train, and he liked that, and then they rode in a race car. He was a little unsure of it at first, mainly because it kind of jolted him when it went around corners, but he had a huge grin on his face for most of the ride. I took him on the camp bus ride, which is a kind of mild Ferris wheel. He was a little alarmed the first time we came around and his tummy stayed behind, but he leaned harder against me and seemed to be OK after that.


I have no idea how old I was the first time I went to an amusement park. I wonder when it was?


Jen came over Tuesday evening and we had an orgy of presents. He got a red tricycle, a sit-down-and-play Fisher Price piano (which he adores), a very noisy toy airplane, some clothes and a hat and sunglasses, some chirping birds on a nest, and a variety of other fine gifts. We attempted to give him a birthday cake, which consisted of a cupcake with one candle on top, but we had a mishap: Kip had just gotten the candle lit, and we thought the cupcake was far enough back on the table, but he reached out quick as a flash and tried to grab it. Of course he succeeded in burning his finger.


I don't know who was more upset -- Andrew or the rest of us. After he finally calmed down, he walked around and periodically held up his finger, saying, "Owie. Owie."


By the next morning, of course, he was perfectly fine, pounding away on his piano and apparently unconcerned about his burned finger. I wish everyone healed as fast as 2-year-olds.

Man.


I've spent some time cruising through the pro-anorexia sites out there, which led me to self-injury sites, which led me to the following conclusion:


I'm really normal.


There is one really sad journal written by a woman in her mid-20s who has been cutting herself and binging and purging for half her life. She had a baby a year and a half ago, and it was horrifying and scary to read her journal entries leading up to his birth. I was so afraid for the baby that I HAD to finish reading until everything turned out sort of OK.


I can't bring myself to link to the journal, but if you really want the URL, e-mail me and I'll send it on.


It could be that there are some people out there who can't be helped. Maybe because they don't want to be.

It's been five days since I posted? Damn. I attribute it to either being really busy or extreme laziness. My money's on the latter.


I just bought three tickets so Kip and I can take Andrew to see the Wiggles in late August at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul. He LOVES LOVES LOVES the TV show and dances to all the songs. This will be a huge experiment to see if a 75-minute live show will hold his attention.


But can I rant here? Ticketmaster is the Great Satan. The tickets were $15 apiece; that's reasonable. Ticketmaster, however, charged an additional $7.30 PER TICKET for all their bullshit "convenience charges" and whatever other names they can slap on their additional fees in order to soak consumers.


Just on a hunch, I Googled the words "hate Ticketmaster." Need I tell you that I was inundated with dozens of hits? (I like the one that called Ticketmaster a "serial rapist." I also like the guy who wrote, "First and foremost on my list of suckery is Ticketmaster." And "I hate Ticketmaster. It should die.")


I hope whoever is responsible for all those extra charges at Ticketmaster roasts in hell. And I hope they have to pay "convenience charges" in order to get there.