I’m sitting at the table trying to finish an article on planning and designing a garden. Here’s what I am dealing with:
Henry is trying to talk me into getting a malt to appease his guilt. I give in and agree to eat some Ben and Jerry’s.
Then he slurps said malt in my ear.
He is correcting my grammar as I type.
There are strange noises coming from Anders’ room (an hour after he has been put to bed). On the first visit I discover him sitting silently holding the plastic guard that keeps him from biting the crib. There is another one on the floor.
A few minutes later I hear the blinds rattling. He must have heard me coming the second time and hit the deck. As I walked in the room (with the camera) he stands up and pretends he has been sleeping all along.
Now I’m blogging instead of writing for money. I guess I only have myself to blame for that one.