As it’s Saturday, I’ve enjoyed three desserts so far. It’s not quite the “moderation” I’d envisioned, but it’s a start.

In other news, I’ve been having blog angst because I haven’t really been, you know, documenting Shef’s life on the blog so much.

At a dinner party, I’ll recount an amusing Shef-related anecdote, and some well-meaning friend who has no intention of causing my guilt meter to read “Commence Flagellation With Thorny Whip” will remark, “Oh, that’s so cute! I hope you’re writing these things down.”

And then I go home and worry about not recording enough stuff, and how now Shef is going to be one of those kids who laments that he has no baby book. His mother, he'll tell his therapist, failed to monitor milestones and archive photographs, and instead she wrote about his penis on the internet.