I know, I know...(and a poop buffet)

I have been remiss. But the title of this post is not an apology. OH NO. It is the repeated phrase that follows any sort of instruction that I give my sage 4-year old. The good news is that sometimes he follows it up with "I was supposed to...(insert instruction here)" and then does it. I choose to take this as a positive sign that a) he is miraculously listening, or b) he can accurately read my strong desire to toss him out of a window and diffuse it. Sort of. That second one, besides being a great survival instinct, is pretty much the only way that 4-year olds are awesome...unless you count creating an unbelievably enormous pile of crumbs under their chair at the dinner table and then falling OFF OF THEIR CHAIR and into it during the meal as awesome. In that case, he is awesome every night.

On a completely different tangent, the brilliance of the spacing in my children's ages is not (as one would think) due to ovulation, but is more based on my own experience growing up. My sister is 3.5 years younger than I am, and I remember taking care of her even as she was an infant, and I figured that worked out great for everyone...well, except for maybe her, so let's DO THIS.

Today Jack proved his might as an older brother yet again while he "babysat" Sydney (she sat in his mini-club chair while he played don't-let-the-baby-fall-out) so I could clean up the utterly disgusting remains of a recently devoured poopy diaper. YES, my life is that gross. I won't get into any more detail lest you vomit on your computer, but let me just say this: dogs suck. And this is coming from a DOG LOVER. The only way the situation could have been worse is if she, demon-dog, after consuming said poo-wonton, had then upchucked THAT on the carpet. Let's keep our fingers crossed for the night, shall we?