You probably haven’t noticed but I haven’t been blogging as much as I usually do.  It isn’t because I’ve run out of things to say because, well, I always have something to say.

It’s actually because…
I really can’t think of anything to say.

It’s bad.  I hate it when I can’t think of anything to write.  I feel like it’s because I’m failing to notice the things around me.

But I’m not.  Things have happened around here.  As usual.  And I’ve noticed them all.  Like the pen and pencil markings that are covering my walls.


We now know Jesse, who is a good and sturdy age 2, can and does reach his little finger tips up and over the kitchen countertops to feel what might be up there for him to swipe.  A few days ago I noticed that the taco rollups I made had been severely picked at. But just the rolls on one side of the dish.  The side closest to the edge of the counter.


And where did the silverware on the living room floor come from?


And how did that plate end up shattered on the kitchen floor?

Let me think…


We keep dog food in a 6 gallon bucket in the laundry room.  Jesse in all his toddler wisdom moved it up to the counter. Climbed on it. Then somehow hefted himself up onto the countertop this morning.  There was nothing up there for him, I guess he just wanted to see if he could do it.

My best-good friend, four or so years ago, commented to me that she thought Ben, who was 2 at the time, was going to be my tough child.

Oh, how wrong you were, Carrie B.  How wrong you were.

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Filed under: Friends & FamilyUncategorized

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