I'm always thankful that Grayson isn't in charge of our fiscal spending. Otherwise we'd be the proud owners of a rocket fishing rod and gallons of moon sand and floam. But I was especially thankful to be in sole possession of the family credit card on my birthday last month, when Grayson revealed that the bike he got me was nice and all, but what he REALLY wanted to get me was an eyeball. "Huh?" I asked. "I've already got two good ones. You think I need a third?" He clarified that this eyeball would be a special one, one that could look all the way to Ripon so that I could see my mom anytime I wanted too. "And I would even pay for the doctor to wrench it in for you," he added. Sometimes, it really is the thought that counts.
My picture of hell: one soggy rainy day, two healthy energetic children, three solid days of DVDs, one dog that needs to pee but refuses to get wet, and me. Alone with the carnage and contracted to get 4 hours of work done. And just to frost the cake, Lucie can take off her pooy diaper now, which delights us all, but especially the dog, to no end. These days it is sort of a toss up for who has left the pile on the carpet. Lucie? Dog? The fact that it landed on top of a princess high heel is good indication the culprit was of the two-legged, shoe-loving, Oreo-eating variety, which makes it only slightly less disgusting to remove behind a 28-ply Kleenex. Pray for sunshine.
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