You Have to Admire the Wholeheartedness of a Three Year Old

Sometimes when Adam says "No," he likes to follow it up, for emphasis, with "Never," spoken in a drawn out, dramatic whisper. This can be especially comical when he changes his mind, as happened this morning.

Me: Would you like milk on your oatmeal?
Adam: No! Never! . . . I mean, um, yeah, I do want milk on my oatmeal.

One Of These Things is not Like the Others

The latch I finally found for the fridge was $3.00 very well spent, but there's still the challenge of training everyone to remember to use it. Here's the smaller, cuter consequence of someone forgetting to latch it today:

I couldn't resist buying the flip flops this morning when Ellen kept holding them out to me and saying, "Uh ahn leppers [want slippers], Mama." And apparently, she couldn't resist putting them in the fridge for safekeeping after we got home.

I won't go into too much detail about the other, less cute consequence, but I will say that what had been on the shelf before the flip flops was a bag of dried apricots, and that Ellen ate most of what was left of them, and that there followed later the steaming of carpets and the soaking of soiled clothes, and a few baths, and a bath "incident" necessitating the bleaching of bath toys -- and I think I've now gone into too much detail.

I Don't Know Why I Continue to be Surprised by the Extent of the Obsession

Adam just set aside his imaginary lightsaber to unexpectedly climb into my lap, put his arms around me, and say, "Mother" in the most affectionate of tones. 

Me:  Aw, thanks for the hug.  I sure love you.

Adam:  I love you too, Padme.

Adam's Own Personal Rorschach Test

Adam, pointing to blot of milk he spilled on the table: Mom, look! This looks just like Mr. Incredible punching someone!

Two Circa 1940 Photographs by Helen Levitt

I'd never heard of photographer Helen Levitt until today's post from the smaller blog. All of her shots in this set are great, but I loved these two images in particular too much not to share them. (No, I have no legal rights to display them on my blog.)



Living with little children, there are innumerable delightful moments that happen and then are gone forever. I take a lot of pictures in a feeble attempt to capture some of it, but my pictures rarely do real justice to the moment. Maybe that's why it makes me so happy to see these perfectly evocative, beautiful images of childhood moments from nearly 70 years ago.

Abducted by a Sofa: One Victim's Story

Last Friday, I couldn't find Adam. Not upstairs. Not downstairs. Not in the backyard. Not at the neighbors' houses where he usually plays. Nowhere to be seen as I searched around the cul-de-sac (or "colder sack," as Zuzu likes to say).

OK. Keep calm. He must be here somewhere. Look downstairs again . . .

walk past the couch on the way to check the backyard again . . .

But wait. Is that a bit of blanket? . . .

Well! I should have thought to look for him asleep, face down, covered with a blanket, smashed behind a couch cushion in the first place, really.

One More Door to Keep Closed

I'm told that some children aren't climbers, but I've never given birth to one of those.

When Life Gives You Lemons (and Limes, and Cilantro), Let Someone Else Make the Lemonade (and the Pico de Gallo)

Friday, Cafe Rio-type salads were sounding good for dinner. So I: seasoned/cooked/shredded the chicken cooked the rice and beans minced the garlic washed/chopped the tomatoes/peppers/onions/jalapenos/cilantro squeezed the lemons/limes blended/bottled the dressing washed/shredded the lettuce mashed the avocados cooked the tortillas assembled the salads set the table

and sat down to dinner, thinking about what a terrific value restaurant food can be.

We finished eating and I: cleared the table loaded the dishwasher packaged the leftovers washed the slow cooker/salad spinner/knives/cutting board/saucepans/blender/electric skillet ran the disposer swept the floor wiped the counters refilled the water pitcher

and went to return it to the fridge, thinking about how my feet hurt and how glad I was to be about to leave the kitchen . . .

and found this magnet of unknown origin* staring back at me.  As if to taunt me.

*Yes, its origin is clear, but it was new to our fridge door. Most likely suspect: Zuzu, pocketer of all things free.

(re)Fridgeraider

While there's food in the fridge, she will not go hungry.

This Post is For You Naysayers Who Don't Think Star Wars Clips on YouTube Count as Educational Media

Adam, to my visiting neighbor: Red and blue make purple.
Neighbor: That's right! You're so smart. How did you know that?
Adam: Darth Vader and Obi-Wan.
Me: Umm . . you know red and blue make purple because of Darth Vader and Obi-Wan?
Adam: Darth Vader's lightsaber is red, and Obi-Wan's is blue, and when they hit . . .

Tulip Festival (If You're Into That Kind of Thing)

Don't bother going out to the Gardens at Thanksgiving Point. Not unless you like stuff like masses of flowers
blooming in a riot of color,

wide open spaces in which to frolic,

grassy slopes perfect for rolling down,

pools and fountains,

idyllic backgrounds for photographing your favorite subjects,

or toddlers who run with their tongues hanging out. (That might have been a one-night-only attraction.)


There's also dappled sunlight, meandering streams, and waterfalls. If you like that sort of thing.