Who spilled on my pj’s?

December. Really?!

The girls and I watched “The Baby Story” today. They are fascinated with that show. There was a little girl on there today who was named Eden. She was 3 and, well, Eden. Eden means “delightful” and it was so funny to see another little girl with the same name – and so very much the same in personality as well. The mother was due with “Penelope” and she said that they expected her to be just like her older sister Eden – and if she wasn’t, Eden would teach her! Ah, yes, that sounds just about right.

We walked around the block today. Our block, while exceptionally big, would be traveled far faster if we didn’t have to stop and steal a small amount of gravel from every gravel driveway along the way. Don’t worry though, we give theirs to their neighbors, theirs to their neighbors, etc. It’s Sterling’s mission. I don’t ask why – it’s hard to know when the answer lacks a few consonants. He “urt” his “inger” (hurt his finger) and wanted a “ar-el” (marble) in his “uck” (truck) tonight before bed. Perfect sense! You should hear him say “convertible”. It cannot even be typed. Don’t even ask why he knows what a convertible is. He’s a boy.

Blaine gets to shoot a book signing with Sarah Palin tomorrow. Pretty cool! I’d go, but then there’s the four small children part that throws a wrench in things.

Eden woke me up in the night complaining her pj’s were wet. When I asked if she’d wet her bed (something she hasn’t done for at least 6 months) she said she didn’t know.
“Well, are you panties wet?”
“Yes!”
“Then you probably peed your bed. Are your sheets wet?”
“Yes!”
“So why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I don’t know what got on me!”
“Uh, honey, pretty sure we know what is on you. Unfortunately.”