It was one hela-va week (boo! Back to my day job).
It snowed just enough to get rosy cheeked and brush burned.
Not to mention assaulted with a blunt object. Stuff like this happened every 5 minutes or so. I swear our household thrives on an unhealthy abundance of bipolar convictions. Everyone's happy as possible one second then BAM! Abby gets hit on the noggin with her favorite babydoll. (Guess who threw it. Don't worry, he received a Masters Degree after listening to Abby's dissertation on being nice to his "big sister" and not throwing AbbyDoots.)
They made up over curbside snowcones. Delish.
I'm trying to get used to the ups and downs of raising young children but I swear this is why I quit teaching. Too much stress to keep things leveled all the time. Not one of my strong suits. I remember spending many a weepy hour in the office of the staff developer when I taught Special Ed, trying to get out of my contract.
Do they have mom developers? Did I sign a contract?
No? Oh well, I will just walk around and take pictures of pretty things instead:
Something slightly out of focus.
Something left of center. Heh.
Something sweet but ohso sneaky.
Something with which to romp and play...
...to include arm nipping as I took a turn on the toboggan. Still unclear if she was trying to save me or ride shotgun.
I don't know how he was able to keep up with our chaotically active schedule and smile through it like he was getting paid. He was, if you consider stealing all his M&Ms and Swedish fish payment. Somehow, I believe he does.
But enough about Pop.
Just kidding. I won't embarrass him too much because he's been known to grace the Internets but I will add that today we are mournful he is not downstairs in our kitchen stirring his tea. His 75th cup of tea. I think he was cold here. I think I'm cold here, I'm on number 12th cup or so. It's so hard to say goodbye to any one of our parents when they come to visit. Hell, I'm pretty sure I get a little choked up when the Stanley Steamer guys leave. Attachment issues. Detachment too, evidenced by all the sad when I see brake lights headed away from here, the House of the Rising Delinquents.
So the bunnies are sleeping and I get to kick back and enjoy their presence without being their bellhop, take out chef, or referee.