We're All a Little Cookey

I live with a bunch of nutters. Don't mistake me, I LOVE my nutters, but they are nuts.

You got Riley there, lifting the shirts of everyone to poke them in the bellybutton, dragging books to the center of the room to stand on while she watches TV, scrubbing her lunch through her hair, plugging the bathtub drain with her bum to draw out bath time a bit longer....it is an extensive list. 

 Then there's Joe, grinning up at, well, nothing for several minutes at a time and jolting me awake with exclamations of "arhg-gah!" while himself remaining sound asleep. And also, he'll be eating and pause to look up at me slyly, whilst milk dribbles out of his mouth onto my shirt. Crazy kid.

Sleeping like Dad, one leg off the side.

Baby blessings bring out the crazy, apparently.

The smile Joe gives me mid-mouthful. Dead-ringer.

Dave and his aversion to cooking with a recipe, his tendency of wondering off perfectly good trails to explore, and his distaste for brinner (who doesn't like breakfast for dinner, I ask you!!). Oh, and he can dance like Gaga and Beyonce. But you didn't hear it from me.

I show a little crazy myself from time to time. Like when Dave didn't want to fold laundry at eleven at night and so I went and threw up in the bathroom (it was actually morning sickness, but at least the laundry was done by the time I finished retching). Or on New Years Eve when I decided we needed to clean our carpets so we piled up our furniture and spent a very chilly evening marooned on our bed, with the fans blowing and windows open to dry things out. Or during last pregnancy when I sprayed cleaning chemical all over the bathroom at 10pm and then thought better of it for my fetus and had Dave come scrub it down instead. Come to think of it, many of my neuroses revolve around cleaning stuff. And Dave rescuing me. 

 

“We are all a little weird and life is a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”

Dr. Seuss

And now our adorable wierdo #1 dancing in a tutu from Grandpa Harreld. You can't tell but her top half is soaked from when she managed to get around me while I was bathing Joe and slid head-first into the tub. I snagged her just late enough for her face and front to get dipped. Annoyed with me for spoiling her fun, she then emptied my make-up drawer over my shoulder and into the tub with Joe. Touche, Riley, touche.