Things I’ve learned this week:
Ruby doesn’t know she’s whining. She just does it. It’s like she needs noise. Next time, I’m turning on the radio and waiting to see if she stops.
Charlotte is like no other baby I’ve had. Between 7 and 8 pm, she starts whining, then escalates to a cry if you do not respond properly. The only thing that makes her happy: being put in her bed. With a snuggle blanket in her arm. Really, what baby does that???
I’m not as smart as Blaine. Really, this is no new revelation. The man is ridiculous.
I get really crabby at my children when my husband is not around.
Sterling misses his daddy. They all do, but Sterling seems to be noticing that he’s the only male in the house. Imagine that. He was so proud to help me mix chicken feed and check the coop today. He needed to do a “job”.
A queen size bedspread requires 780 rectangles. I’ve cut almost half so far. I hate cutting rectangles.
Fabric scraps and a school glue stick can make a mean doll blanket. Or placemat. So easy, an almost-6 year old can do it.
A firstborn will make a perfect scrap blanket. A second born thinks the ripples add character.
I’m a second born. I understand that mentality far better.
Eden thought the monkey chased the easel. Because weasels don’t have legs. And easels do. Hmm. No. Yes. But…
Sterling cannot remember what a cattle guard or a hardhat are called. But he’ll remember what they do. Every time.
Ruby likes sour cream by the giant spoonful. Brady will clean up the mess she makes on the floor. It’s a team effort.
A handful of change, access to the canned food cupboard and a pretend cash register makes for hours and hours of fun. And dented cans. And pennies everywhere.
Polka dots on a bedroom wall belonging to a small boy who has witnessed firsthand a
massive huge very large tarantula on the same wall: not a good idea. In the dark, polka dots do not necessarily look like polka dots.
If I spend enough time on Facebook and on my blog, I can avoid cutting rectangles. But no one will cut them for me. Eden offered, but she’s a second born and I’m told crooked rectangles make for a crooked quilt.