The other morning, I tossed our squirming toddler into bed with my sleeping husband so I could go do some laundry in the basement without "help" from my ever-ready assistant. I came back upstairs a few minutes later to the most addictive sound in the world: peals of baby and daddy laughter mixed all together. The reason: Mike had turned the comforter into a cave and Bear was spelunking down to the end and then back out, over and over again.
Yesterday, we beat the heat indoors by building a fort out of the kitchen chairs and an extra sheet. The Bear wasn't certain exactly what to do with all of the headroom, but she had a blast coming in and out.
Sometimes this parenting thing is so simple.
And then we have a boring (for her) Sunday school meeting at the church where she makes a break for it every chance she gets, talks over the coordinator, and tries to stab the lady next to me with a pen, so I know things are back to normal.
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