Tuesday, September 15, 2009

The Post In Which I Somehow End Up Referencing Firefighters

Now that the school auction is over, I've turned my attention back to hearth and home just in time to prevent the five-foot-high pile of laundry from toppling over and injuring one of the children. It's been like this every year for the past six years and it's comforting, in a way, to know ahead of time that this portion of September will be spent rescuing my house from itself and re-calibrating the rhythm of daily family life.

Speaking of family life, it's come to my attention that I no longer have a baby. Lea may still pronounce her name "Waya," and people may still sometimes have difficulty deciphering her sentences ("park" is still "pahk," for example), but there is no denying her newly acquired second-grade swagger. She's been asking if maybe she should visit the speech therapist, and her instinct is probably right, but it makes me so sad.

As for the twinkers, they are obsessed with...cartwheels. Have I mentioned this before? That they turn at least a hundred cartwheels a day? WHY do they do this? It forces me to sound like The Crankiest And Most OCD Woman Alive: "Wash your hands. Go wash your hands. You need to wash your hands. You better wash your hands. Wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands."

Hey, guess what we bought at the auction? We bought firefighters. They come to your house in their firetruck, and they BBQ stuff for you, and then they chase you around with their, um, firefighter hose while you scream.

You are so very jealous right now.

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