InstaDumping

Some of our recent shenanigans, courtesy of the square-photo club:

 

After he wore it this way, he turned it around backwards to cover his face.  Then he walked into the same wall three times within eight seconds.  I only stopped snorting long enough to get him turned around.  He was cool with it.

This happened shortly after nine o'clock in the morning.  Because I felt like untangling sucker-hair all the live-long day.  And I wanted to see how much of the paper on Landon's stick would melt in his mouth.  (Answer: 2/3 of it.)

 

My heart was singing and crying at the same time.  They're so grown UP.  And in this moment, they were so getting ALONG.  Suckers are my new mediator of choice.

 

Blueberry smoothies.  A bit on the thick side.  Straws didn't work, but nostrils were surprisingly adept.

 

 

Middle parting like it's 1995.

 

 

Oh, the rainbow birthday cake.  Always a hit.  Always a giant tub of red-dye-40.

 

 

And this husband of mine is not a guaranteed morning person.  At least not until after his superman coffee mug has rescued a few Italian-roasted cupfuls. 

 

Lalaloopsy picnic (inside because it was drizzle-aired and cold that day) for my almost five-year-old.  Lauren is not allowed to grow any bigger, therefore I ate most of her rainbow birthday cake myself.  It's a hard knock life, right?

 

 

Peanuts are cool, as long as his binky is taking up all the room in his mouth.  Also, he's not interested in sharing just yet.  I assume that trait will be honed within the next decade or so, but current household evidence has yet to back me up.

 

 

I hate math, and I hate laundry.  I just didn't know they hated me back.