My Child is the One With the Basket on Her Head
Will and Krista came over yesterday and we let Maggie and Will play together. I swear at one point they were standing at the window looking out at the Sandy Lagoon talking about how nice it’d be to go outside and play. Next time hopefully we’ll be able to eat popsicles and enjoy all things Sandy Lagoon.
Maggie discovered that a basket can be a great way to entertain guests and proceeded to ham it up for all of us watching.
Girlfriend kept the game going and at one point I was a bit concerned that she was going to walk into the wall with the basket on her head.
See how in the background of the above photo she is still trying to work the whole basket angle? She is totally trying to steal Will’s thunder.
I think finally Will was trying to tell her the joke was over and he wasn’t laughing anymore. She clearly doesn’t get the message because the basket is STILL on her head. Poor Will seems a bit defeated at this point, can’t a guy get his picture taken without Miss Basket Head behind him?
We compromised and got a shot of them both together on the bench. (Hey Cole, Will nearly toppled off also, so Caroline is in good company!)
And then Maggie’s hair threw a party on top of her head.
P.S. Did you hear that Thursday is the new Friday??? Yippie!!!
Complaints About The Compost Pile
Tonight I decided that I’d had enough with Maggie’s high chair. I stripped it down, threw the cover in the wash, the trays in the dishwasher and the entire frame outside to hopefully be washed clean by the rain. I fear that nothing short of a monsoon will clean that dang thing, however. It’s amazing how all the little crevices fill with particles of food; grody, gross, gross! No matter how many times I wipe it down it seems to become more and more disgusting.
Today Krista and Will came to visit (more on that another day) and she commented that the space under Will’s chair at their home is called Will’s Compost Pile. I think I might steal that term and add it to a few places around our house, minus Will’s name, of course. Graham crackers, cheese bits, avocado, mango, pears, bread and whatever else Maggie eats has shown up in the strangest of places.
Somebody recently asked me what lotion I was wearing, and I wondered to myself it it might just be the smell of animal crackers that permeates from my being these days. Is it possible? Hippies smell like patchouli and I smell like animal crackers.
If digging food out of strange places and smelling like animal crackers makes you a mother, I think I’ve made it.
I am officially a mother.
