So. That toddler bed transition.


Since I know you are dying to hear how this watershed moment is going, let me fill you in. After three days of getting kicked in the face while trying to gently usher the Tasmanian devil back to bed and being assaulted at random intervals during the night, my husband put a baby gate up at the door to Keeghan’s room.

At this moment he is standing at that gate shouting “BOOM. This. Is. A. CHICKEN.”

Sometime when I’ve had a lot of coffee, I’ll tell you the one about the night he managed to get the gate open. Good times.

Okay, you!


I went into Keeghan’s room this afternoon to collect him from his nap. (I know, great story hook, right? But that’s what happened. I walked in and there he was all cute and snuggly, curled up with his blanket.)

Keeghan: We gonna go get Ian?
Me: Yes! It is time to go get Ian! Want a hug?
Keeghan: Go ride stroller. Okay, you!

He stood up and flung his arms around my neck, and I gave him a hug.

Keeghan: I want to change the diaper.
Me: You need a diaper change?
Keeghan: We always change the diaper.

Well. He settled my hash.

In other news, Ian’s lunch box came home with a hole in it yesterday, which MIGHT have happened when he threw it up in the air and it landed on the tile in the cafeteria, but he doesn’t think so. Also, he has a gift for the family which he informs me is “definitely not a clay luminary” and also does not “have a hole where you put in a candle.” In that case, the suspense is killing me.