While I was gone, as I feared, my prediction for Dancing with the Stars’ top five went awry: John Ratzenberger and Edyta Sliwinska were bumped. Too bad. While you could put his dancing skills into a bag with Billy Ray Cyrus’s and take bets on which would fall out first, still, I liked his charm and gumption a little better than Billy Ray’s charm and constant hillbilly references. No matter–he’s sure to be gone tomorrow night.

I hope Apolo Anton Ohno’s attitude that judge Len Goodman is just looking for something to say when he says Ohno’s performance isn’t great is just an act. Goodman’s right–Ohno’s got the moves, but he remains a bit sloppy. His teenage fan base may keep him in next week, but it’ll be a close one between him and Ian Ziering, who is finally starting to shed his plastic persona just enough to make some progress.

Speaking of close ones, I have no prediction for the Laila Ali/Joey Fatone shootout that’s sure to wind up the season. They’re both fabulous, with no clear-cut distinction like the one between Mario Lopez’s excellent skills and Emmitt Smith’s charisma, charm, attitude, personality, and oh yeah, surprising depths of dance talent.

One thing’s absolutely clear from last week’s results show, however: Meat Loaf sounds awful these days. Awful.

Back from vacation. After flying 3,000 miles and back with a three-year-old, I may need another vacation in a couple weeks.

I got a haircut today, and amid some standard mommy-son tickling/general “woolling,” as my mother used to call it, he mussed my hair with the following dialogue:

“Are your hairs long?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I like your hairs long.”

Woo! Validation! Followed immediately by this declaration:

“I’m tying Mommy’s hair together.”