My blog and real people

Had I known that actual real live people read my blog (ie; other than family members), I may (underline MAY) have been more inclined to update on a more frequent basis. But now that Bob has left a comment, calling me out for not updating in over a month, I guess I have to write SOMEthing. (When my family tells me that it's been awhile since I've posted anything, I can always put them off with how busy I am. But when one of our extended family members comes over from NDISB (Theresa's scrapbooking store/forum/gallery), they know that I just hang out in the forum and pretend I know what I'm doing as a webmaster and site admin, so I can't use that same line.

But, what to write?

I could write about the kids. I can always write about the kids. In fact, I've been meaning to post about this for awhile, but I haven't taken the appropriate picture yet, but I guess I could do that now. (Picture me getting up and going to get the camera and taking a picture of the "subject item". (of course, I'm not really doing that, but you can imagine it, nonetheless.))

A few weekends ago, with Theresa and Mattea at Mattea's Saturday morning ballet lesson, I remained home "watching" the boys. Okay. We weren't physically in the same room. Or on the same floor. But we were all inside the same house at the same time. That has to count for something.

I sat at my computer in my office, as I have been known to do from time to time, but this particular time I heard coughing. But not your regular three-year-old coughing. More like your "I'm choking, somebody help me!" coughing. I took this audible cue to mean that I should, in fact, see if perhaps one of my children needed tending to. By the time I got downstairs, Noah and Grayson had both thrown up on the carpet of the family room, not two feet away from where they could just have easily thrown up on the tile floor. Kids.

Seeing that they had already remedied their own situation, I proceeded to clean things up before someone came home and started asking questions. While performing my janitorial duties, I asked the boys what happened. They both said that they were just eating Mattea's bunny cookie (it was just after Easter).






As you can see, while still in the wrapper, it looked like an appealing bunny cookie. Upon removing it, experience tells us that this is not, in fact, a cookie, but a bar of soap. Experience that 2 three-year-old boys had yet to acquire.

(Just as I was posting these pictures, Noah came up to me, saw the picture, and said "That's not a cookie!" When I asked him what it was, he said "Soap!" He seems to have gained some knowledge in the experience!)