For the last week, Wifey has been out in California for her mother's memorial service. The Bug and I wound up having to stay behind. Frightening thought, I know -- two kids home alone...
But, with the help of awesome neighbors, perseverance of youthful idealism, absorbency of Viva paper towels, and therapeutic charm of children's song and dance, we made it! Well, one day to go. Then we set out during the witching hour to scoop Wifey up at the airport.
I thought I had figured out all of the Bug's hiding places and idiosyncratic names for things until I hit a few roadblocks these past few days. We were down to only two pacifiers whose whereabouts were known, until I looked at a pile of them outside of the the cat door in the back. Apparently, out of arm's reach.
And it was only after having a plastic toy monkey shoved in my face by a toddler screaming "Monkey mayonnaise" over and over again, that I found out she had started calling bananas, "mayonnaise." I blame that vowel song about liking to oat, oat, oat opplos and bononos.
We still have some bugs to work out, but we're doing fine.