coagulations, as they say at the blood bank

Charles got a job! A real, live, direct-deposit-enabled job!

Don't get me wrong. He hasn't been some unemployed slacker sitting around eating Ho-Hos and watching daytime TV. He's been working. But he's been working through a temporary service, which, although it is employment, doesn't pay all that awesomely, offers no benefits and, worst of all, doesn't use direct deposit.

Direct deposit is one of the most wonderfully terrific inventions of mankind - rivaling electricity, flat-screen monitors and Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls.

With direct deposit, we never again have to use our lunch hour to go pick up his paycheck and then wait in line at the bank's drive-through window. The money just magically appears in our checking account - ready for spending! Err, saving. Whatever.

Anyway, so, the company he was temping for offered him a permanent position - with a nice pay raise and benefits, and a much better schedule, which means he'll actually be home at around the same time as me and Drew. So, yaaaay to Charles!

Speaking of His Royal Crankiness, in the past three days Drew has been asserting his newfound toddlerhood by hurting himself in a variety of creative ways. He's been hit in the noggin by an errant soccer ball, bonked the back of his head on the floor and cut his lip when his feet slipped out from under him and he fell against the sliding glass door.

Each time, one of us would swoop down and scoop up our crying child, who, once he was cuddled for a minute, would decide he was ready for round two.

I get the feeling this is part and parcel of being the mom of an active baby boy. I guess I should invest in Band-Aids and Bactine.