Last night I dreamed about Endpaper Mitts. I was talking to Sarah about hers and I was planning a pair of my own. Dreaming about it wasn't much of a surprise since I took a two-colors-in-two-hands knitting class last night at my LYS.
I was only gone 2 hours and 15 minutes. I left a bottle for Spike and fed him just before I left. Paul and his grandmother were both here. But apparently about an hour after I left Spike decided he was hungry and refused the bottle. At some point Grandma went to pick him up and fell on her butt (everybody was unhurt). And apparently that last hour and 15 was, errm, loud. Now, I can't pretend to understand the whims of a baby, but Spike has only had, oh, maybe 6 bottles ever, and he's never flat-out refused one. He wanted the source and a nap please, thank you very much!
Since we all love to see Spike, here he is trying to kiss Leap.
(Just a note - Paul is about 3 millimeters outside this frame, doing the responsible parent thing and waiting to catch Spike should he catapault himself off the couch. A lot of our pictures seem to show Spike in perilous situations, inches from death, but I assure you that there is always more to the scene than the camera can see. We would never intentionally put him in harm's way, even when he cries for an hour and 15 minutes.)