It's all good

So we're all hanging out on our bed after work, letting Mama (that's me!) recover from the 75 minute, nausea-inducing commute. All of a sudden, Jacob stands up, grabs my curling iron from the headboad/shelf (not sure how that got there, but maybe the little ham stored it there just for this purpose), holds it up like a microphone and starts singing "I like to move it," EXACTLY like the the Will.I.Am version from Madagascar. It's like he's CHANNELING Moto Moto the hippo. Then, just like that, Jacob is back and offers the curling iron: "Dosh turn? Mama turn?"

He's not even TWO!

How does he know how to do a fake microphone? How?

When Josh and I were on our honeymoon in Kauai, we spent one day ziplining with a group of people that included a man with his two teenage sons. At one point, we were talking to the father, asking him what it was like raising two boys. He looked us in the eye and said, "It's all good. Every age is great." Later on, Josh and I realized we both had had the same thought, Cancer survivor. I know, it's pretty cynical to think that anyone with that rosy of an outlook must have faced death. Now, we are eating our words, our hats, some crow, a piece of humble pie, and some foot for good measure because Kauai Man, you are so right. It's all good. Every age is great.