Yesterday morning, Natebug was munching on a slice of bread. When he'd had enough, he started tearing off bits of bread and throwing them up onto the table, one at a time. "Fun... Foo... Free... Foe..."

I have no idea what to make of this.

Meanwhile, in the afternoon, while Natebug was helping Dadders pick up some groceries at Vons, Isaiah helped me bundle our loose change into rolls. He was enthralled as I counted out the pennies into stacks of ten. It was enormously exciting.



A sober reminder...

Last night we took the boys to the park to feed the ducks, and on the way home we saw a huge commotion in the Bank of the West parking lot about a block from our apartment. Traffic backed up, police cars everywhere, the middle lane blocked off with orange cones... very strange indeed. It seemed that they were doing a random sobriety check. But they didn't stop us, since we were going the other direction.

As we pulled into our parking spot, Andy turned to me and said sheepishly, "I'm half tempted to go back and drive through it, just for the fun of it." I was half tempted, too... so, given that two halves make a whole, we followed our irrational impulse.

The officer took one look at Andy's license, and sternly informed him that it had expired. Gulp. No, wait... it expires on the 30th. He has a week to take care of it. With everything else going on in our lives, we never would have remembered on our own!

As we breathed a sigh of relief, the officer glanced over to the passenger side and saw my bulging belly. It was his turn for a scare. "You aren't on your way to have that baby, are you?" We reassured him that no, I was still weeks away from my due date... but he sent us swiftly on our way nevertheless! He looked a bit shook up at the possibility (however minute) of a woman giving birth while waiting at a random sobriety checkpoint.


Straw Men

Straws are lots of fun. Not only are they good for drinking, and often handier for parents than sippy cups, but they're super for blowing bubbles.

But there's an art to drinking out of a straw, and the pickles haven't quite worked out all the nuances. This afternoon I gave Isaiah a lid-less cup with a little bit of water and a straw. Straw in mouth, he carefully tipped the cup so that he could drink the water. Of course, he just kept tipping it further and further, and never got any of it anywhere but down his shirt...

It never occurred to me how counter-intuitive the method for straw-drinking is. Nor how exceedingly different it is from the method for sippy-cup drinking.



I oversalted the deviled eggs tonight. The wuggies wouldn't touch them.

I take that back. They would touch them, smoosh them, smear them, scatter them... just not eat them.

I just caught Isaiah taking measures to make sure that such a mistake never happens again.

I'm glad salt vaccuums up easily.

I wish that were the case for deviled eggs.


Click here to play Make-A-Word word game, and TRY to score better!

Drill Bits

My wonderful husband spent Saturday altering the bookshelves so as to make them even more pickle-proof. This was a lot of fun for the boys, who are utterly fascinated with Dadders' tool box. (Please-please-please can't I play with your hack-saw?) The boys were entirely fearless in their fascination with these truly dangerous objects. However, there was one tool which aroused in Meepo the proper degree of fear... and then some. And then quite a bit, actually. He was absolutely petrified of the drill. Once he heard the dreadful noise it could make, the mere sight of the thing would send him into hysterics.

But then Wuggidy taught him how to make that noise right back, and suddenly the drill was okay. Not as much fun nearly as the hack-saw, and certainly something requiring a safe distance... but okay.

And this morning, as we got ready for church, Wuggidy continued to perfect his drill impression. It's getting quite realistic. Andy tried to make the drill sounds back at him, but it didn't sound nearly so drill-like. What a talented son we have!


The Numerous Personages of Our Household

Last night, as I was sifting through the mail, throwing out credit card offers addressed to Andrew Da Johnston, the phone was ringing off the hook for Andrewdarre. Andrewdarre has been getting a lot of phone calls lately. Whenever I hear a telemarketer ask "May I speak with Andrew, dear?" I'm tempted to respond "Why of course, pumpkin."

I was busily examining a voter registration notice for Mr. Elena Johnston, when the phone rang for the fifth time. This time it was for Mrs. Elena AndyJ.

All this is rather harmless and amusing, but last month our auto insurance policy was cancelled because the underwriters discovered that in addition to me, there was also another Elena Johnston in our household. She was apparently a few years older than me.

I just hope that Schroder Management Company never finds out just how many people are living in this apartment!


Lemming Pickles!

The other day, I left the boys' mattress at the foot of our bed for a bit, and the wuggies found a new game. They would clamber up at the head of the bed, run down the bed as fast as their little legs would go, and leap onto the mattress, one right after the other, screaming gleefully all the while.

Then they went out to the living room, and discovered that they can also play this game on the couch, by standing on the back of the couch and jumping down onto the cushions.

This can be a bit startling for anyone who happens to be sitting on the couch at the time.



This school year, my husband will be commuting all over SoCal in a gas-guzzling Ford Explorer.

And I will be attempting to cram three carseats into the back of a tiny little Tercel.

Looking on the bright side, we'll get great gas milage on our little trips around town. And we aren't the ones paying for the gas that goes in the SUV.

Nevertheless, the green in me is indignant at the flagrant waste of non-renewable resources... and the rest of me is green with envy.

I'm grateful, I really am. It will be so nice to have a car while Andy is at work. But I'm having a hard time getting over the absurdity of the situation.