My mom made Piper these magnetic fabric letters. Piper, in true Piper fashion, refuses to leave them stuck to the fridge or dishwasher and instead packs them into little bags or boxes and carries them around, or lines them up in rows on the floor, or stuffs them into odd places (like various kitchen cabinets). Turns out those little magnets are fairly strong, and will stick to the bottom of a stock pot. The letters are also small enough that you might not notice. On a related note: fabric letters will smoke a great deal when placed directly on an electric stove-burner. While they disintegrate, they don't actually burst into flames. And now we need a new C and P.
For some reason, our yard has been overtaken with...things that are not grass. I don't know how it happened. We worked diligently last year to spread grass seed and keep it watered. We babied and nurtured the tender young shoots that arose to cover the bare spots in our yard. We yanked out large weeds and put the yard toys over the little ones. When the recent rain + warm weather caused our brown yard to turn green overnight, I went out to inspect the new recruits. Much to my horror, I discovered that all our hard work was for nothing. The front yard is entirely clover - every bit of green visible is not grass but stomping grounds for wayward leprechauns.
I had both Piper and a friend's 19-month-old little boy for a couple days last week. The little guy is charming and sweet, but Ye Gods I had forgotten how difficult that age can be. He's still mostly in the "screech and point" phase when he wants something, so I spent a lot of time asking him to use his words and say please. Piper alternated between wanting very much to help take care of him (fetching diapers and wipes, finding his misplaced sippy cup, reading him a story - which melted me into puddles, by the way) and howling because he had the thing she wanted most in the world at that moment. They did that a lot. Whatever one of them had was suddenly the other's object of burning desire. They also cracked each other up making silly noises, begged me to chase them and dump water on their heads, and licked markers during art time. Luckily, my friend is the sort to just laugh when I texted her and warned her that her son was coming home with blue teeth.
It was kind of fun, and also taxed my reserves of patience and stamina. I think I was pretty short with Ryan by the time he got home both nights. For Pete's sake, man, I have spent all day smeared with banana and listening to full-volume screeches, wails, whines, and howls. There is applesauce in my hair and every time I open my mouth my lips form the word "NO" out of habit. Find your own damned socks.