How to risk your life: Yell “BOMP!” and slam your head into your mother’s face and laugh like it is ohhh so funny.

How to save your life: Look very sad and hug her and say “I’m sawwy mama. I’m sawwy.”

Repeat until bedtime.

Nickniss’ note to self: Must figure out why I suddenly have so many more bedtimes than usual.

I’m divorcing my husband and marrying a 6-pack of ISO200 Fuji, and this Tuesday I plan to write in “Film” for president when I vote. I have already lost 7 pounds on my own version of the Southbeach diet, where instead of eating dinner I eat film. I pledge my allegiance to film, for which it stands. Filllllllllllllm. FILM. Say it with me, it’s fun: film.

So! Now that we have that out of the way, this is another shot of the same massive sunset from yesterday which! It turned out that my friend pulled over and took pictures of because OH MY GOD. This one was taken at the top of a hill from my car while I begged the light not to turn green, which I’m sure is probably illegal or at least a bad idea but in my defense, look at the damned sky and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same exact thing.

This was taken in my town’s little downtown square last week. Nina and I were on our way to dinner and we were travelling in seperate cars because in Texas everyone drives their own cars, what are you some kind of carpooling earth-hugging hippie? Plus we both have babies and it’s hard to switch carseats around. Anyway, she took off ahead of me, and bad friend that I am, I decided to pull over and take pictures of the sky. Look at it. How could I NOT? She is well aware of my addiction to sunsets, but still, I felt bad because I knew she was hungry and it sucks to have to wait on my ass all the time. But still, look at this sky. How could I NOT?

I know, I’m a loser friend.

It’s 8 pm, and Kevin’s in bed. He has to get up in 8 hours, so it’s not totally ridiculous but at the same time, dude – it’s 8 PM and I won’t be able to be asleep for a long long time. It’s totally ridiculous to be in bed at 8 pm. So we compromise, he’s in bed and I’m sitting on the bed and the light is on, and we’re talking about world events. I start folding towels as he reads a news article out loud to me. Nicolaus is in our room attempting to fold a towel, using the official toddler method for folding towels which is to throw them on the floor one at a time and step on them while complaining that it is “hard to dooooooo!!”

Kevin says “Jeff Fager, executive producer of the Sunday edition of 60 MINUTES, said in a statement that their plan was to run the story on October 31, but it became clear that it wouldn’t hold…”

Nicolaus looks up suddenly and says “Daddy need food!” He tromps off toward his bedroom, leaving the rumpled towel on the floor.

Kevin continues reading, “An NBCNEWS crew embedded with troops moved in to secure the Al-Qaqaa weapons facility on April 10, 2003, one day after the liberation of Iraq. According to NBCNEWS, the explosives were already missing when the American troops arrived.”

I peek into the other room and see Nicolaus standing at his play kitchen. It’s faded and the stickers are coming off of it – we got it at a garage sale for five bucks, but he doesn’t care. He’s looking for something in the plastic cabinet underneath the plastic sink. Content that he didn’t toddle off to drown himself in a bucket or eat broken glass, I go back to folding towels and try to focus on the news story.

Kevin is saying, “It is not clear who exactly shopped an election eve repackaging of the missing explosives story…” I lean over again and see Nicolaus – a miniature version of Kevin really – very seriously putting on a tiny oven mitt.

I am stacking up the last of the towels and Kevin is reading out loud: “CBSNEWS’ plan to unleash the story just 24 hours before election day had one senior Bush official outraged…”

Nicolaus marches in. He is holding a rubber plate with both hands. “Made that foood for Daddy!” he tells me.

“Oh cool Nicolaus!” I offer to take the plate, but he pulls away from me.

“Made that food DADDY,” I am informed. He walks the long way around our bed, taking care not to spill the invisible meal he has so carefully prepared.

“Thank you!” says Kevin, “What did you cook for me?”

Nicolaus looks at him like he’s blind, “Cake,” He points to the plate, “Aaaand cornbread. Aaaand grapes. Aaaand cookies.”

This story has no point. Except maybe yes, the world is a mess right now and yes, we are on the eve of a very important election. However, one thing that all of the pundits and the bloggers and the political analysts seem to consistently overlook is OH MY GOD is my child not the cutest thing ever?

It’s 9:45 and Nicolaus is still asleep. I can’t believe it. If you reply to this, please type quietly. I might be able to clean the living room!