Grace

As rendered by my dear, dear friend Lou. Who drew this from a single photo on my Facebook account. That is sheer talent, my friends.

Even Uncle Kevin

Last night before going to sleep, Brad and I played a game. We were trying to see which of us could name all of the extended family members of the other person's family. Embarrassingly, we both miserably failed. But I must say that Brad did worse for two reasons: 1. He has actually met all of my extended family members and has had extensive conversations with many of them and therefore really should know most of their names, and 2. He didn't know the names of a couple of his own relatives. Seriously.

But hope is not lost for our extended family ties. Tonight as Grace and I drove home in the car, I asked her, "Grace, who loves you?" and after naming me and Daddy, she proceeded to name every member of our family. Including Uncle Kevin. Who left for Argentina before she could talk. And who she somehow recognizes in photos (although occasionally she is actually pointing to a younger, skinnier Brad).

Anyway. Family. We love you. We miss you. And you don't have to worry about Grace forgetting about you. Obviously.

Unrated

While spending another entire day at the Millers, I made a routine visit to Trey's bedroom to check on the kids.

And nearly exploded in disbelieving laughter.

Trey was hanging, upside down, from his top bunk, wearing his Spiderman suit. Except for his mask. And to this Grace loudly objected.

"Trey, you're supposed to have the mask on for kissing!!"

The scene sounds too familiar to be mistaken as merely coincidental. And yet Grace has not been allowed to watch adult-ish films (including Spiderman) since her last incident.

And so I am baffled.

Bored

There's very little to do at our house these days. Every room is empty except for the living room which contains a mattress, a couch, a two-foot high child's table, and a TV. The toys are waiting in Dallas, and our backyard has been conquered by our neighbor's cats.

So it probably shouldn't surprise me that for entertainment, my girls make messes. What else is there to do? Grace scribbles on the walls, eats handfuls of plain oatmeal (spilling tablespoonsful on the floor), and dribbles laundry detergent on the carpet (albeit in a very well-meaning attempt to help me cart the laundry out the door). Claire has coated my floors in cereal and applesauce (a result of her happy discovery that she can reach our tabletop).

Yesterday Grace was eating some chocolate cookies--remnants of our roadtrip from Dallas. She fed pieces to Claire while holding the ziploc bag. And somewhere in the middle of this feeding, I fell asleep for a much needed two minute nap.

I woke up to a suspicious sound and opened my eyes just in time to see Claire lying down, shaking chocolate cookie crumbs all over herself. And all over our bed.

She started to cry at the cookie crumbs stuffed in her eye. And while flushing her face with water, I found chocolate in the folds of her neck. And in her ears.

In a helpful effort, Grace emptied a full bag of baby wipes to scrub Claire clean. An entire bag.

And so I loaded everybody in the car and headed to Trey's house. They have a backyard. And air conditioning. And no chocolate cookies!

Complimentary

Grace has had a couple of accidents at her friend's house lately. She gets too busy playing, I suppose. So when she told me (in time), "I feel I need to go to the bathroom..." I helped her onto that porcelain seat and sang her praise.

"Grace, you are such a big girl! I'm so proud of you. You did a great job making it to the bathroom in time. You are great."

Her polite response: "Thanks Mom. You're a great wiper."

Happy Father's Day

I made scrambled egg wraps for breakfast in honor of my daughters' Daddy. He had unfortunately picked that day as the start of a new diet (a diet which somehow restricted the intake of eggs, but not of the candy bar handouts at church).

So, we had leftovers. Which I thought I would try out on Claire.

I might as well have given her a pony.

Uh-oh... Nope, still good.
"Claire, the floor is yucky. We don't eat things from the floor."

Wanna bet?

Every Night's a Sleep Over

The living room is the only part of our house that is air conditioned. And with temperatures hitting the hundreds, and most of the furniture out of the house anyway, we are camping out in the living room.


Rolling into people in the middle of the night is at least more comfortable than frying in bed, I assure you.