My youngest announced her arrival in the kitchen just moments ago by blowing a giant, tongue-flapping raspberry. Wiping the flecks of spit off of her face, she began gesturing and talking, inserting raspberries for key words.

"Mommy. I would like PPPPPLLLLLTTTT with PPPPPLLLLLTTTT." Uh, okay. She handed me a basket of strawberries and said "PPPPLLLLLTTTTT." Well, now, I would have never guessed.

And now she is in the other room shouting "Oy! Limbo!"

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I told my son to get his shoes on this morning, and he claimed that they were outside. I told him to go outside and get them. He responded "I've got no body fat!" This ranks up there with "My blood sugar is crashing!" as my favorite excuses offered up by my son.

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My dryer is not working well. Sometimes It works great. Sometimes it spins but doesn't heat. It fakes me out, too. It will be hot for five minutes of the cycle and then stop. And then the next day, it works like a charm. I doubt I need a repair person. I think I need an exorcist.

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I've become obsessed with Brain Age. Thanks to my children, my brain acts like that of a sixty-year old. A drunken sixty-year old. I keep playing with it, hoping to improve. But then I remember that I still have the kids sapping my brain power. I wonder how long that excuse will hold water? The only thing that made me feel better was waiting until the very end of the evening and then making my husband try. His first attempt? Sixty-two-years old! I win!

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