I apologize for my extended absence. Illness ran through this house faster than wildfire through the redwoods. And, oh, how it lingered. By the end, I was falling to my knees and thanking the good Lord above for every hour that went by without vomit. And when a whole night went by when I was able to sleep, instead of cleaning up some explosion (good luck with which end the kid exploded from), I thought I might just sing from the rooftops. Though I’m not sure exactly how that song would go.
It has cemented my theory though that I am well past my years of thinking that waking up at all ungodly hours of the night with a wee one is charming. I actually ENJOYED getting up with my first-born at night. It seemed like it was just us against the world. There wasn’t another soul stirring. Well, I’m sure there was some crack addict in a back alley in NYC trying to hussle something up, but I digress…
No, now I am on to the sad reality that I need to sleep. And my husband is on to the sad reality that if I’m not experiencing at least seven hours of that, no one in the house will want to be around me.
But even with sickness, some things never change. It did not change my children’s ability to find trouble. I’m wondering if they have a nose for it, like a labrador has a nose for birds.
I walked into the bathroom the other evening and found this.
Yes. That it a toothbrush. Above the mirror. Between the lights. And there were very specific mitt prints on my mirror. The lab results are still out on whose they were. We’re running them against those known in the database. I have a very strong feeling which child this was, though. The little one is not yet creative enough for this.
“Um, could you come in here, please?” I yelled to Papa.
He huffed and groaned and made a big production out of coming out of his office and walking two steps to the bathroom. He’s not big into moving if he doesn’t have to.
“Yeah, what?” he finally asked, when he made it in.
“Look around. See anything?”
I’m not sure how it took him as long to see it as it did as it literally almost pokes you in the eye when you try to look in the mirror. And he’s a good nine inches taller than me and a whole lot closer to the problem. I could tell when he spotted it though by the smirk that played around with the corners of his mouth.
Paige has Papa wrapped. He just thinks the sun rises and sets on her. She can do no wrong. Except she doesn’t know what a Twinkie is, so he’s not sure if she’s actually related.
Since this picture was taken, the Toothbrush Wars have broken out. Paige attaches her toothbrush somewhere, and then my darling husband takes the toothbrush and tries to attach it somewhere higher, more creative, out of her reach. I literally could do a series of pictures on the toothbrush.
Walking into the bathroom now consists of taking a quick scan of your surroundings to see where the toothbrush has ended up. And what the likelihood is of it falling onto you as you try to empty your bladder.