That blog post in which I decided to write a poem a day? The number of poems I have written since then? Rhetorical questions.

But now the baby has a toy. She has a playmat, one at her grandparents’ house and one at ours, which she actually plays with. By herself. But just when I thought she was going to play by herself and let me write a blog post, she needs a diaper change and is getting fussy.

This is one of those days, of which there are many, when it feels like every day has six foiled plots at the center of it. Baby 6; Me 0. Or, I guess it’s usually more like Baby 4.5; Me 1.5.

So since I have to go, and I don’t know if this plot to write a blog post will be half carried out or quite foiled, here is a video: