White Rabbit

Apparently yesterday Shae decided to do some spring cleaning or something, because when I got home from work at least half the contents of her toy box were scattered all over the living room. It was a virtual minefield of forgotten plushies, derelict noisemakers, random puzzle pieces, and these see-through blocks that have totally bizarre things inside them, like half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or something. Not a real sandwich -- a plastic sandwich. But think about that -- half a plastic PB&J, inside a block. Am I the only person who thinks that's completely deranged? Yes?

She also found last year's Easter bunny ears, and she just thought they were the best thing ever. For like ten minutes she hopped around the living room, going "Boing! Boing! Boing!" and giggling and not standing still because of course she found those things right at bath time.

She could not manage to get them on precisely correctly (they were backwards), but at least she put them on. Voluntarily. Which only happened because we wanted her to take them off and go upstairs and take a bath already, you filthy boogery creature with your germs and your stinky butt.

Her new thing to say is "What happened?" all the time while making that exact face, in response to any and all questions. We don't know why. I have no idea where kids pick this stuff up. Sometimes we don't even need to ask a question. When she wakes up in the morning, or gets up from her naps: "What happened?" When we pause the TV or fast forward to the end of Sesame Street so that we don't have to watch even one frame of Barney: "What happened?" When we find cheese sticks or fruit snacks in the cat food bowl or in the cushions of the couch: "What happened?" It's cute, but it's getting old.

I also gotta say, I'm kind of sick to death of snot. I had the plague or the swine flu or whatever last week, G has it now, and Shae's had a runny nose on and off for the past year. I'm not going to lie -- I kind of resent that wadded up tissues are taking up valuable space in my handbag that could be dedicated to, I don't know, recreational narcotics or something. Anything. But judging from both my mother's and my grandmother's purse contents over the last 35 years, that's not going to change, is it?