So I was feeling pretty good about getting back to work.  Reagan's report from her first day at school was wonderful - she was happy all day, smiled, and her teachers love her.  Wilson loved being with his buddies again and playing on the big playground...  All was right with the world and April was looking a little less "cruel".  Then, this morning I was driving to work by myself, heading off for a day full of meetings...  I turned on the radio.  And through it came melodic guilt:

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then...

And you know there are days when you get a song stuck in your head and you can't get it out.  There I was all day, harrassed by it all day long.  Anytime someone asked me how it felt to be back at work the stupid song started up again.  Cats, silver spoons, moons...

In other news, Reagan had her 2 month appointment today.  Chris had to take her because I was in meetings (can you hear it?  Can you hear the cat in the cradle?  I can...) and she got all 4 of her shots.  Lucky him.  She's now 11 pounds and 22 inches long.  Her growth chart shows her at a perfect 50% all the way.  She's healthy and happy and really that's all that matters.

I'm going to take the silver spoon and knock the cat out of the cradle toward the moon...  That will make me feel better, won't it?