… not according to the airlines (they don’t really seem to care) but according to mommy’s stomach, my nose, and the eardrums of those around us, it’s about time to start getting her her own seat. sparklet careened around for the full three and a half hours out to houston, and then the full two and a half hours back.

(while i’m just about over careening, at least it isn’t the most mortifying thing that happened during the trip.)

for what it’s worth, it doesn’t actually seem to be a problem that isn’t limited to the airplane right now — if she’s being held, she wants on the floor. if she’s being carried, she wants to walk. don’t bother trying to put her in a stroller. and, if you turn your back for 1/4 second, she’s ready to bring on the pain.

if these aren’t the terrible twos, i don’t want to know what’s coming.

(really, don’t tell me.)

ps. we leave for costa rica in exactly one week — and fortunately, we had the good forsight to get sparklet her own seat. ahhhh.

after one thousand, one hundred and thirty three days of looking, we finally found a place in the united states that sells one barrel rum from belize (the rum we mixed with coke and drank like fish on our honeymoon).

after about three years of trying just about every liquor store in virginia, maryland, d.c. and texas, we tried yet another store (spec’s) near the lady sparkler’s parents.

not only did that have bottles of one barrel (they had 10!) but someone was in not 10 minutes earlier asking for a couple bottles themselves.

now we just have to buy lots of bottles, slowly, each in a different disguise — it’ll drive up demand and make them think they need to keep it in stock to meet the popular demand.

sparklet had a playdate this afternoon with a friend — one of our dedicated, arbitron-rated 3.7 blog readers — and her little boy, Andrew.

aaaand, for some reason sparklet spent the whole time chasing Andrew around, trying to give him things (instruments he didn’t want), then trying to give him more things (kisses he didn’t want) and then try to pet his hair.

andrew was a good sport about it all, but i have to admit i was paralyzed with fear for the whole time — which accounts for the utter lack of photos of sparklet’s early attempts at flirtation.

nothing happened for me to be particularly embarrassed about (i guess) but something tells me that i’m not going to find the next sixteen years of my life to be particularly relaxing.