So the big guy has learned to climb this week. As you can see from the photo, sometimes you need to be careful what you wish for. I guess it wasn't everything he had hoped and dreamed and plotted for. His problem seems to be getting high centered on the root beer belly. *




Lately, the Youngster has left his days of piracy behind him and when I say that, I merely mean that he has less hiding spots for his treasures. In fact, there are only three in existence now: the first and most hygenic is the bathtub. This morning I found Daddy's laptop in there. The second is the toilet. We won't mention what I've found in there. The last is the trash can. I had to fish out, one by one, the entire contents of my purse/diaper bag the other day. Check book...credit cards...makeup...sunglasses...keys...all nicely coated with a protective sealent of squashed banana and the remnants of a spaghetti lunch.




I don't know if it's just me or if my children are seriously more clutzy than the norm. We all know, and love, little Anna and all her misc. (yes, I am abbreviating it cause I can't spell it) bruises and battle scars. Now we have Gianni, who bless his pea picking heart, seems to be every bit as graceful. This morning at church, while NOT in child care, he found endless and hilarious entertainment with a glass door and window. He seemed to think that running behind it he could see me but perhaps I couldn't see him. Or maybe he knew I could see him but he thought I wouldn't be able to cross over to that side and get him. Who knows what goes on in the minds of toddlers? Anyway, this game went on for quite a while, as he charmed little old grandmas and cackled his evil laugh at me through the door (all the while blowing blow fish and licking said door). Well, those windows and door were darn shiny and clean. Poor kid. We don't wash windows at my house. He was mesmorized by the clear sparkles, made even clearer and sparklier by the snow right outside. Have you guessed the outcome yet? He ran smack dab into the door, going full speed. Lest you feel guilty for snorting a bit, don't: he's a tough little guy (when not fainting) and he picked himself up and dusted himself off and didn't even really look too embarrassed. He did sport a nice pink forehead and nose for the rest of the morning. It reminded me of when Anna had not one, but two black eyes. At the same time. From two seperate incidents. Try explaining that to nosy women in the grocery stores who stare at you like you probably boil kittens in your spare time and mutter under their breath about child abuse. The first shiner came from falling over in the shower. The second, well, the second was my fault and I still periodically and randomly apologize for it. We had locked ourselves out of the house and Anna, bitty little munchkin that she is, was the best bet for squirming her way through the only unlocked window. This window was a bit high up, and I'm not exactly tall (I am pretty tall for a short person though) so I had to climb up a stepladder with her. You know how you can lift a good amount of weight as long as it's held close to your body? But you can't really give it the ol' heave hoe and lift above your head and outstretch your arms? No? Well, trust me, it's really difficult, or maybe I have spaghetti arms with the strength of gnats. So, yes, I dropped her and yes, she got another black eye. Yes, I will stop typing and apologize again.




I also feel the need to apologize for the way my paragraphs don't always come through and the way the captions to my photos aren't always symmetrical. When I am writing these posts, everything is perfectly lined up and exactly even. Then when I publish it, due to some evil genius at blogger twirling his handlebar mustache, they get all weird. This bothers me. And now that you probably never noticed, you will now and will judge me.


* no, I don't feed my 1 year old root beer.