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Squeaky Clean
I have to add one more item to the list of Annika's cleaning activities. As I tried to take a quick shower, I was watching her wipe down my bathroom with a blue rag. When I opened the frosted glass shower door, I realized that it was not a blue rag, but a blue toilet brush. She'd just finished rubbing it all over everything. Gross! I mean, Ucky!
Monday, October 29, 2007 at 8:53 pm
10/27/2007
10/27/2007
10/26/2007
10/24/2007
Ucky!
Annika has been showing her fastidious side lately. She's become obsessed with things that are "ucky." A leaf on the playground slide? Can't go down it. Must remove leaf first. A scrap of paper on the floor? Must relocate it to the trash can. Andy handed her a few pieces of trash to take to the waste basket the other day. In a moment she was back, empty hand extended begging for more. Last week she declared a folding chair to be "ucky" because the seat was all scratched up. She gave her dolly a juicy kiss on the lips and promptly came running to me in distress. "Ucky" she said, pointing to the saliva left on the baby's face. And yesterday, Grandma got her started brushing fuzz balls off the rug into a dustpan. She thought it was the coolest thing ever. So, Grandpa Bob, you may worry no longer. Your genes have been passed along. Your vacuuming gift will live on.
Saturday, October 27, 2007 at 1:40 pm
10/22/2007
Aaaah!
That's an aaaah of relief. The happy sound of my muscles relaxing and my headache relieving. The sound of the peaceful evening I'm about to enjoy. At home, all by myself. No kids, no screaming. No requests for food. No cleanup of crumbs, diapers, or dirty faces. I get to go to bed when I want, eat when I want, use the bathroom when I want. No whining, no screeching. Am I repeating myself? Life is good.
Monday, October 22, 2007 at 7:49 pm
10/17/2007
10/17/2007