Katie walked into the room the other day to find that Sam had done this to his sister:
That's the bulb from a baster. He discovered a while back that he could squeeze it and make it stick to his own face, and then he decided to share that joy of discovery with his sister. I can't wait to see how things like this play out once she's old enough to defend herself.
I think we have four spatulas in our kitchen ( I admit I failed to properly research this topic by counting, but I can distinctly think of four). I feel a little guilty about it. Do we really need all those spatulas? How many things need to be turned over at once? Should I donate one or two to a third-world country where kids have to grow up in a world without spatulas? We are indeed fortunate to live in a place where these wonderful utensils are in rich supply. The next time you are cooking pancakes, eggs, or grilled cheese sandwiches, take a moment to spare a thought for those who aren't as fortunate.
It's not just smoke detectors anymore. Somehow a clock in the baby's room has been set to go off at 4 a.m. And it's a weird little clock without any clear method for disarming the alarm, so it took me 10 minutes to turn it off this morning.
I like to read articles that discuss quantum physics, in the vain hope that someday I'll understand such concepts as Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and Bell's inequality. Seriously, how can observing a particle affect its quantum state?
Which reminds me, when I get a cat I'm going to have to name it Schrodinger.
There are some Rolos on the kitchen counter. After a couple hours they are audibly calling my name. I refuse to acknowledge the voices, for fear the Skittles will think I'm crazy.
I awoke from a lovely dream of eating Twizzlers this morning to find a shoelace missing from my sneakers. I suspect it was the fun-size Snickers that knocked on the door last night, asking for a glass of water.