It is forty-eight degrees here this morning, and my little daycare boy will not keep his clothes on. When it was August and so hot that I threatened to die on a daily basis, he remained clothed. Something is definitely odd about this child. No wonder my children love him so.
(While I typed the above sentences, Owen stood beside me and told me a riveting story about how he had some talking marshmallows that kept escaping from their cages. If my posts ever appear choppy and weirdly worded, it is his fault. Remind me to ask him later if he ate the marshmallows after they escaped, because I don't want to find them stuck in my tennis shoes like last time.)
Anyway, it is cold and it is Monday and I did not sleep more than maybe three minutes total last night and my husband just called and informed me that he is hanging from a window many stories up in the air in downtown Atlanta at this very moment doing something for his job (he is a sheetmetal worker) that I do not understand. All I heard was the phrase "hanging from a window" and now I am all freaked out. Why couldn't he have been an accountant like I told him to? No one ever listens to me, and look where it gets them. My wisdom is wasted.
In other scary news, Halloween costumes have been purchased at our house, and we are going to have a cheerleader, a racecar driver, and Thomas the Train roaming the streets come October 31st. Hmmm. That wasn't very scary, was it? That's actually on purpose, because I really don't want to celebrate the more upsetting side of the holiday. I choose instead to focus on the candy. That's what it's all about anyway. I should just dress them up as giant Hershey Kisses every year and be done with it.
Oh, for goodness sake. I give up. Not that this entry had any kind of a theme or anything, and it doesn't appear that I'm going anywhere with my random sleep-deprived babbling, but Owen is back now to tell me that the Great Marshmallow Revolt of 2008 is taking place in my kitchen and I need to join him in his quest to protect our home. He has taken two marshmallows and broken them in half, sticking the sticky sides to his head in an apparent attempt to illustrate the horror of the attack. I tried telling him to be a man and protect us from the onslaught, but he just looked at me like I had lost my mind. I suppose I must go to battle.
Is snack time like this at your house, or is just us?
Never mind. I don't think I want to know.
I have a lot of thoughts in my head right now but just not enough time to get them all down on paper. But I’m heading to Houston tomorrow and I’m hoping th...
1 hour ago