A BIG, BIG, Big, Big DAY!

That's how Luke says it. His eyes are intensely happy, he leans his whole body forward, and he repeats an adjective numerous times, changing pitch each time, almost like a downward arpeggio (for those musicians among you who understand what that means); the number of times he repeats the adjective is in direct correlation to its intensity. Often, something is BIG, BIG! Occasionally, it is BIG BIG Big Big. Once or twice, something has been BIG, BIG, BIG, BIG, Big, Big, BIG! (Occasionally he sums it up by saying "huge," which comes out as the first syllable of "hoosier.")

But back to today.

Today is a BIG, BIG, Big, Big, DAY!

Zeke woke up with a second tooth. It wasn't there last night. It was definitely there this morning. It is very sharp. The end.

Luke was playing with Grammy and got all wound up. Like, reeeeeally wound up. He started "surfing" on her body pillow, which was beside her bed. He jumped off the surfboard to splash in the water. Usually, that's that. But today after jumping into the water (off the pillow onto the carpet), he ran around the room literally DIVING head-first into the carpet. If only we had had the camera. We were worried that he might break his neck, but we really, truly could not get him to stop. He spent about 15 minutes flopping around the room, diving into the floor, flipping his legs up, kicking the walls, kicking the dressers, completely full of joy and out of control. But in the process, he mastered the art of...

(drumroll, please)

... the somersault.

With a running start, he looks like he is diving into water. When he tries it without a running start, he fidgets his legs around to get them placed juuuust riiiight, and then kicks them into the air and flops around. Grammy taught him some mean techniques, complicated things like "remember your hands." (So you don't do something like break your neck.) (He appreciated the advice: "Hanns, BE-tuh.")

Big day.

Meanwhile, Richie has his first overnight with his job, hiking to dams in rural areas outside Redding, hopefully not suffering from heat stroke, and, ideally, dodging all poison oak.

And in a letter to Richie's mom today, I thought of a way to sum up my own job:

I don't get paid too well for my 24-hours-a-day no-vacation job; but if smiles count for money, I'm a millionaire.