Mia is short for Mischief

Remember the character of the police commissioner in the Pink Panther movies? The one who ended up with a serious "tic" whenever he even thought about Professor Clouseau? That's what my wife looked like when she dropped my son off for school this morning. Our daughter apparently got up on a stool and starting pushing buttons on the alarm system and set it off.

A few days ago, Linda handed Mia a baby wipe in the car to occupy her for a while (she loves 'em). But this time after a few minutes I guess Mia had decided to tear up the wipe and stuff the little pieces into every orifice in her face. She sat there staring at her mother, as if to say "yeah, so?" Linda of course made her remove the objects from her ears, nose, and mouth. Later, Mia seemed to be complaining about her nose. Linda, thinking it might be a nosebleed (Mia gets those sometimes), checked, and tried to assure Mia that she wasn't bleeding. But Mia's complaints persisted, until she finally snorted out a huge glob of nasty snot-encrusted baby wipe.

This is the same little girl who doesn't mind picking up palmetto bugs, who still (at 3-1/2) paints her face with food when she eats, and has pooped in the bathtub.

I thought boys were supposed to be disgusting.

Nothing funny

I haven't posted anything for a long time. That's not because nothing's funny. It's because I get caught up in daily life. If it weren't for daily life, I'd have more time to write about it (which is pretty funny). Lesseee..... Tucker is learning to play tennis -- taking lessons at school. Oh man, it's pretty hysterical. At four, he's the youngest one out there, and definitely the smallest. Coach Bob is a god. The patience and energy he has is amazing. Tucker isn't sure whether he really wants to do this, but we keep trying to encourage him and make it fun for him. He's getting better. He can almost hit the ball when it's bounced to him, even. He loves hitting it from his own hand, though. And he seems to love to move on the court. Tucker's sister, Mia, is tagging along to try and get into the act when we play together, too. She can barely hold the racket, but keeps holding it up with a ball in her other hand, saying "Papa, wat dis!"