Leslie came over two whole weeks ago (or was it three?), and we ate these, proving once again that Jane is - how are the kids saying it now? - da bomb? Maybe the kids have never said that. Maybe I don't care and want to eat more tarts.
We also demonstrated incontrovertibly that we cannot a decent picture of ourselves take. I present to you the evidence:
|Attempt One. And boobs.|
|Attempt two. Success? And possibly boobs.|
I'm holding her Ziploc container and two Wheel of Time books hostage to ensure we have a rematch.
It is April 9th. And I'm already behind in keeping track of the new budget. I rule so hard that I'm expecting a sceptre in the mail any day now.
That, or an audit notice.
One of the rooms in our house looks like this, and I - despite what you think you know about me - am very happy about it.
My son has learned to colour.
Probably because of all the practice he's getting.
Good thing we have that house cleaner.
Related: the house cleaner came for the first time yesterday and cleaned both bathrooms. Is it peculiar that she reorganized everything in the vanity drawers? Is it peculiar that I think it's peculiar? Someone else cleaning my house is a whole new(ish) world to me, so I'm not up on the etiquette.
I also struck a blow against class war, political incorrectness, and man's inhumanity to man everywhere by persuading my daughter to call the cleaning lady by her name, instead of by The Cleaning Lady.
Changing the world so much in one short day has made me tired. I deserve to sit down and have a coffee. Or to relive our Post Birth Of Bean feast:
This time last year: Food Waste Friday: Clever Food Fights Back