It's Wednesday. Hump day. The longest day of the week, besides Monday mornings and Friday afternoons when you just KNOW that something is going to prevent your early escape from the shackles of cubicle confinement. Not that I would know anything about that, because I always loved my jobs. Mostly.

Today I celebrate Hump Day with my darling daughter. She's laying on the floor as I type, and complaining because she's got to stretch out her arms to reach the happy apple, and this will tragically scar her young life. Guess I should start putting those pennies aside now; who needs college when you can pay cash for therapy?

Poor little girl, with the bright wide eyes and the chubby cheeks and the dimply elbows. Her tummy hurts. And she does Not want a nap, because she's not sleepy. Despite the fact that every time I pick her up and hold her against my shoulder those same bright wide eyes get heavier and heavier, and she's fast asleep instantly. But the second that I go to put her down, she wakes up. Not happy. Baby Angst has struck in suburbia. It's hard when you're only four months old.