Not a post about Easter

I haven't been a fan of Easter for some years now. I know I should take the rabbit by its horns and shake as much festivity out of it as I can, but I lack the proper rabbit-throttling enthusiasm. I will note that there was more flat ham, which was fantastic, and roast lamb, which was amazing, and the children were really great. So that's all fine. MOVING ON.

Am getting into minor flame wars on social media over the Mauna Kea telescope. Which I support. Because there's already a telescope up there. And nobody lives there. And there are no endangered species at risk. And it'll be amazing. But Jason Momoa took his shirt off, so EVERYONE UP TO THE SUMMIT TO HUG HIM AND GET ARRESTED. HAWAIIAN BLOOD FOREVAH. You know who also loves pure blood? Voldemort. Expect him up there any time, folks. And hope he keeps his shirt on.

This week I gave a 13 year-old a medal for putting his fist in a cardboard box. He won the storytelling competition with the extra points we gave him for comedic sarcasm.

Week #2 of having no functioning bathtub and having to wash my hair in the laundry sink was made more exciting by having the water shut off completely. We have since resolved the situation, and Leif was disappointed that he still wasn't allowed to catapult around splashing water all over the floor. WHAT GOOD IS A NEW TUB EVEN.

Earlier in the week, for reasons perhaps easy to intuit (hint: free showers), I took the kids to the public pool. We paddled around in three feet of water while hovered over by two surprisingly-vigilant lifeguards. Zenny, who will stand grimly and refuse to sit or play while in the bath, suddenly becomes part-otter in the pool, leaping and splashing and... cracking mollusks. Handles on baby suits, I tell you.

Incidentally, I just searched for "baby swimsuit with handles", just to see if they've been invented yet, and found this thing:

Clearly no further advancements in swimwear are necessary.