Halloween cards from Grandma Wallace

Super Inappropriate

I like to encourage Mason's creativity, but this seemed a little inappropriate.  I believe the red object in question is from their plastic food set: some kind of long vegetable now beyond recognition.  I threw the offending piece away after Chad and I had a good laugh.

Note to self: buy tinker toys to avoid this in future.

Ode to Pie

I enjoy cake.

I love cookies.

I live for pie.

Mmmm.  Apple-blueberry.  Sweet, cinnamony apples with tart blueberries that turn the filling a glorious shade of purple.  Can it get any better?  I submit that it cannot.

I ate watermelon, okay?

Bree, after I read her a bedtime story:

"Mom, you know...I still love you, even if you have stinky breath sometimes."

Preschool

Here are the preschool kids playing the giggle circle game.  I remember playing this with my friends when we were younger.  You lie in a circle, with your head on a friend's belly.  Someone starts  laughing, and when the belly beneath your head bounces and jiggles with laughter, it makes you laugh, and the cycle continues.  The kids thought it was pretty fun.

We are alive.

Chad and I did not escape it.  But we are alive.

"My tummy hurts..."

Stomach flu with small children means:

• A two-year-old who will cry from thirst and hunger.  Do I give in and suffer the messy consequences, or listen to his pitiful crying?
• Mason repeating, "Don't need to barf, Mama," throwing up between words, and simultaneously pushing away from whatever barf receptacle you're offering.
• A sick four-year-old girl who is up half the night, but who makes you proud as she makes every effort to make it to the bathroom.
• Bree in the bathroom crying after accidentally messing her pants, saying, "It's all my fault," but who rallies admirably when I reassure her that it can happen to everyone (even adults) who gets the stomach flu.
• Me imagining I'm feeling the beginnings of stomach pains, and praying that I will escape it.  And a house that smells sickeningly of Lysol.