My son is a billy goat.

Remember how I used to wonder at the lack of young children in public? Well, no more. Taking my son out in public is like dragging around a full-grown billy goat. The resemblance is uncanny ... he's stubborn, puts whatever he can find in his mouth(except his dinner; he throws that on the floor) and his utterances sound like a cross between a goat and a terradactyl. No wonder the hawks circle our yard. A few times I've had him by the hoof when he begins to resist. Instead of meeting force with force, I've had to gently let him down onto the ground where he has melted into a tantrum. The shrieking is also really getting to me. My nerves are totally shot. At swim lessons this morning, he shrieked so loud and often that I had to separate him from the other quiet, sweet children who were happily playing along with the nursery rhymes. It's getting very embarrassing. My kid is totally undirectable. He'd never make it in school; they'd label him "special" and "behaviorally challenged."

That, my dear readers, is why you haven't heard much from us lately. Dan is a chore, I am exhausted and when I do get a minute to myself, all I want to do is find someplace quiet and sleep.