This, that, but not that other thing
So I'm wondering if part of my fear of blogging is tied to my jinxy-ness. Like, if I blog about how well things are going, everything will fall apart.
I suppose I could try to outfox the jinx by posting about how horrible things are, but The Jinx is not to be trifled with.
Now I want trifle.
This is how my brain works. All roads lead to food.
Speaking of food, it's a good thing we are living in modern times, because if my family were prehistoric hunter gatherers, we'd be hosed. Middle Daughter just came in the room asking me if I knew where the neosporin is, because she couldn't find it.
Just for context, the medicine cabinet is stocked with little open bins that are labeled. Clearly. With short easy to understand words like "Tummy Troubles" and "Pain" and "First Aid". Granted, I've only had this system in place for the last five or six years, so not everyone has caught on yet. So when Middle Daughter said she couldn't find the neosporin, I generously assumed that someone had mistakenly placed it in the "Cold & Allergy" bin, or possibly the "Kid's RX" bin.
Want to guess how long it took me to find it? Or where it was? Come on...it's an easy one. Practically an open book test. You guessed it...I found it in about three seconds, in the "First Aid" bin. A box of band-aids had fallen on top of it.
Middle Daughter could not have looked more amazed if I had pulled a stegosaurus out of her ear.
Maybe it's my fault, for all those times I took her toddler self to stores and museums and other people's houses and told her "we look with our eyes, not our hands."
I suppose I could try to outfox the jinx by posting about how horrible things are, but The Jinx is not to be trifled with.
Now I want trifle.
This is how my brain works. All roads lead to food.
Speaking of food, it's a good thing we are living in modern times, because if my family were prehistoric hunter gatherers, we'd be hosed. Middle Daughter just came in the room asking me if I knew where the neosporin is, because she couldn't find it.
Just for context, the medicine cabinet is stocked with little open bins that are labeled. Clearly. With short easy to understand words like "Tummy Troubles" and "Pain" and "First Aid". Granted, I've only had this system in place for the last five or six years, so not everyone has caught on yet. So when Middle Daughter said she couldn't find the neosporin, I generously assumed that someone had mistakenly placed it in the "Cold & Allergy" bin, or possibly the "Kid's RX" bin.
Want to guess how long it took me to find it? Or where it was? Come on...it's an easy one. Practically an open book test. You guessed it...I found it in about three seconds, in the "First Aid" bin. A box of band-aids had fallen on top of it.
Middle Daughter could not have looked more amazed if I had pulled a stegosaurus out of her ear.
Maybe it's my fault, for all those times I took her toddler self to stores and museums and other people's houses and told her "we look with our eyes, not our hands."