A New Low

As I was taking the boys' laundry out of the washer today, I was alarmed to see a piece of a book cover stuck to the washer door.

Then I noticed linty-looking stuff all over the clothes.

Yes--in a new low for homemaking, I laundered a book.

That's Not My Monster is no more.

But Wait! There's more . . .

As I removed the clothes from the washer to assess the mess, I found the remains of Curious George and the Dump Truck.

So now I have a washing maching full of debris and a pile of linty, wet clothes.

Don't try this at home, kids.

USA

I love the USA.

But I strongly dislike the chant, "USA, USA, USA!"

It's unimaginative and somehow unattractive.

New Pictures

New photos of the SwindleFun cast are available at Jer's Super Fun Family Extravaganza. The photos are captioned for your extra enjoyment.

Please email me if you would like the password.

Enjoy!

Eight Months

Here are three pictures of Victor at 8 months. He was really something. Just look at that hair!

And here are four pictures of Zeke at 8 months.

What a sweet face.

Protests Schmotests

I don't get protesting.

Peaceful marching seems like a good way to get your message out.

But acting like a hooligan? How on earth is that supposed to sway people to your way of thinking? Who wants to adopt the opinions of person who smashes store windows with a bandana tied over his face?

And seriously, turning over trash cans? Ripping up park benches?

Go get a job, Mr. Hooligan.

I sound like one of those anti-hippie squares from 60s and 70s movies, but making a mess on public property is just so unbecoming.

No Day Report II

It happened again. Twice!

Yesterday afternoon, Victor decided to make #2 in the potty completely on his own.

And just now, he went #2 on the potty instead of taking his nap.

If this is Victor's way of rebelling, he can have at it.

No Day Report

Okay, so ten minutes ago Victor climbed up on the end table and was sent to his room for a time out. (The end table is out of bounds for all climbing, car driving, and ball bouncing.)

When I went into his room to release him, he was in the hall. When he saw me, he knew he was in trouble.

So he resorted to his old get-out-of-jail-free card. "I have to go potty!" He insisted.

I thought he was bluffing.

"Okay. Go ahead and go," I said. And I walked away to change the baby.

Wouldn't you know, he went in, put his little seat on the toilet, took off his shorts and diaper, and went #1 and #2 in the toilet.

(I have long suspected that my presence in the bathroom inhibited production, but I wasn't willing to clean up all the wet mess everywhere.)

Victor received ample praise and the sticker and treat he asked for. He seemed pleased.

Are we starting potty training again? NO.

But it is encouraging to know he has the skills.