Memoir Titles Etc.

Just some blurbs while I wait for the laundry to finish so I can get my running clothes out and go to bed:

• Potential titles for my inevitable memoir: There Are Matchbox Cars in My Blender or Surviving the Great Lego Booby Trap or Why Would You Think That Was a Good Idea? Like all good memoir titles, these work on multiple levels.

• My children are odd about animals. Today, Bee told me she wants a kitty cat in her hand, and Bruiser threatened to eat both our neighbor's dog and the non-existent hummingbirds we're trying to lure into our yard with a newly hung feeder.

• Monday means all the drama. Tuesday means unusual breakfast choices. Wednesday means locking myself out of the house. Thursday? I'm hopeful for unexpected calm.
• Littles informed me today that he thinks he's up for reading Moby Dick. Should I offer to buy him his own personal whale if he can get through it by the end of the summer?

• Nap time always makes me think of the above clip from Emma. The important part is at the end where she says, "Oh, I love John! ...Oh, I hate John!" This is how I feel about naps with the twins (Oh, I love nap time! Oh, I hate nap time!). My expectations are so high...and so often inevitably crushed into oblivion. Why is it that on the days that kids are falling over with exhaustion, nap time never happens? Also, should one twin condescend to fall asleep, there is always a good chance that the other twin will try to clock the sleeping twin in the head with a sippy.
• Tiny continued on with his second child ways--one must keep up with one's elder brother--by teaching himself how to ride a bike today (the Man had given him one lesson the day the training wheels came off). He is relentless in his pursuit of domination...even to stealing Little's school books and trying figure them out. I expect to come downstairs one day and find him with his nose in Moby Dick.

• The twins have decided that Trigger needs full supervision during his meals and encouraging words along the way. This includes picking up the dog food to move it closer to Trigs while he is already eating it and shoving Trigger's face in his water bowl all while chanting robustly, "Trigs! Eat it! Eat, Trigs! Here's your water, Trigs! Eat it!"

• My daughter dubbed me the Coffee Queen last week. I am holding onto that moment of awesomeness with both hands.

• You would think that there would be some benefit from having a grapefruit sized cyst removed from your innards. Personally, I would have taken six pack abs as a perk. No such luck.

And there's my laundry all finished up. We're out!