While I blog...

I admit it, sometimes I tune my kids out. This morning, yes morning, Sara told me she wanted a hot dog. I of course was blogging so I kept putting her off. In the meantime she got into the fridge, pulled out the hot dogs and the ketchup, and put them out on the counter. In order to do this, she had to pull a bar stool from their designated spot and put it up to the counter.

As a side note, the designated "spot" for the bar stools would be here:

Yes, I realize that it looks as though a bar room brawl has occurred in my kitchen. Having my one-and-a-half-year-old performing the 'macarena' on the counter whenever she sees fit pushes aside all my ideals of household order and replaces them with the need for safety and security of said child. When Livvy first began climbing on the counter we pulled the bar stools over here and that was enough to stop her. She then realized she could push them right back over to the counter. I left the kids with Dave the other night and came home to all the chairs on their sides. My first reaction was "What in the world happened?" I quickly came around and felt admiration and praise for my ingenious husband and his problem solving skills. At last, Olivia has been stopped!

As you can only imagine, Livvy always has one eye open, pointed in the direction of the kitchen counter. Anytime a chair is randomly up to the counter, she is in hot pursuit and up on the counter within seconds. This morning was no exception.

Sara is the family siren/watchdog. She is always letting me know when Olivia has violated her restraining order. And so, this morning, screaming at the top of her lungs, she let me know that Olivia was on the counter. I, of course, had no idea Sara had pulled the chair to the counter, let alone gotten out the hot dogs (a consequence of tuning her out, I guess). I run into the kitchen and there sits Livvy, happy as a clam, chowing down on cold hot dogs.

This picture I couldn't pass up on. She is such a nut. As soon as she saw I had the camera she was belting out "CHEESE" as loud as she could with her mouth packed full of hot dog. She puts her all into it, knocking her head back and closing her eyes. (I think her mullet is becoming so photogenic, don't you?).


She wasn't too happy that I got her down and put her in her chair but amends were made as I squeezed out a big ole' pile of ketchup for her dipping pleasure.

I really think that instead of giving out those cheap plastic diaper bags at the hospital when you bring home your new baby, they should give you a pair of hazard lights and a loud siren to attach to baby as needed. Then, and only then, would I feel I got my money's worth out of that dang hospital bill.