I wish the title of this post were some kind of beautiful metaphor about motherhood; some profound observation about raising children. But the truth is, there's a balloon on our ceiling. The life span of this particular balloon was bound to be a short one in the hands of our two-year old, but it somehow made it out of Monkey Bizness, through the parking lot, into the car, and back home to our living room. Score 1 for the balloon. But thanks to 20 foot ceilings, we have now been faced (twice) with the rather daunting task of rescuing our little latex friend and returning it to its rightful owner.
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Andy's trying to "sweep" it over to the stairs for me. This was Us vs The Balloon, Round 1.
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I'll give you one guess whose winning this litte war. It isn't us.
As the result of some unpleasant weather we've been stuck in the house quite a bit lately, and entertainment around here is getting a little thin. You can only have so many tea parties and bake so many batches of cookies before you start looking for amusement anywhere you can get it. Hence, this...
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| This is her "eat your heart out, supermodels" shy face. |
It was her idea. I swear.
Summer better get here quick. We really need to get out more.
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