J'aime la printemps.

It's spring break here sur la maison, which means that we're all seeing more of Mr. Milkweed than we usually do. This has been wonderful, especially considering that last week he was teaching a night class at Well-Known Test Prep School, and I worked both Saturday and Sunday this past weekend.

Today we spent the morning at the zoo, where Eva was very perplexed by an echidna--



("Uhhhh....this? THIS?!?!")

--and sang the Winnie-the-Pooh song to the kangaroos, once I made the Kanga and Roo connection for her. It's all about relationships with kids her age, and I wasn't the only mom trying to make a flamingo or an anaconda fit into her toddler's worldview. I heard more than one reference to the lions as "really big kitty cats." With us, it went something like this:

Me: Look, it's a wolf...like a dog!

Eva: (imitates dogs panting)

Me: Yes! But more pack-oriented!

----------------

Me: The manatee is like a biiiiig fish. It's a sea cow!

Eva: Moooo?

Me: Sure, sort of! Wave to the manta ray!

Parenting philosophies differ, however. Mr. Milkweed was also eager to help her understand what she was seeing.

Mr. M: Look, Eva! Those are gibbons, which I believe are a species of Asian ape...(mutters to self)...Unless they're actually some sort of hominid.

Eva: *blank stare*

Me: Look, Eva! Monkeys!

Eva: (squeals, happy claps)

It's all in how you explain it, we're discovering. Such tricks also apply to self-deception, as in the way I keep focusing on how much fun we'll have once we're in VA next week, and how the car ride there is really no big deal at all. Really! Just a blip on the radar-- we might as well be down the street.

*wipes cold, cold sweat from brow*

I'm also using this trick to convince myself that there's no reason to be worried that Mr. Milkweed's recent ECG and stress test came back "abnormal," or that his doctor's office called him to demand he come in "immediately." When he explained that he had to work, we was cautioned to take himself straight to the ER should he have any chest pains this weekend, which was pretty much just happy sauce on the taco of my week.

I think we've done a pretty good job of not thinking too much about this, and when I say "we" I mean "he has," since I've already envisioned every scenario from a lifetime of heart medication to where I would live if it were suddenly just Eva and me. Mr. Milkweed has a cardiologist's appointment in the morning, followed by another one with his regular doctor, and I really hope we spend tomorrow night knocking back a few back, laughing at how alarmist they were being, and griping that we (I) worried about it for five solid days.

In the meantime, I have dishwashers to unload and floors to sweep. Nap time's a-wastin'...