I'm often hit over the head with things to blog about. In an effort to remember my kids' sillinesses, I began writing about my own armchair, er ... how it looked when I woke up today, and realized, of course, that my previous post is that of the January armchair. Well ... I really feel on the right path at such moments.

So, yeah. My orange armchair was the last thing I noticed upon waking to Rachel's command of Lloyd, "Don't put that in the milk--you're gonna get electrocuted!" I jumped out of bed. Actually Lloyd woke me an hour or so earlier. He snuggled in bed with me. Then Rachel re-woke me with, "You should see what Lloyd did. He's such a bad boy." I opted to stay put until I heard crying or the baby waking up ... or word of potential electrocution.

I rubbed my eyes to see if Lloyd really had my vacuum out and almost plugged in. I put that away after I set it to the hard-to-push mode. Then I noticed two unwrapped sticks of butter on the living room floor. They were really there. I wasn't dreaming. And Lloyd was bouncing around all excited about his adventures. Butter. I don't even buy real butter. My mom gave me two sticks in case I wanted to bake over the holidays. Lloyd had also helped himself to a bag of chocolates from the fridge. And what the hell was all over my chair!? MY chair is brown. This morning it was orange. The empty paprika container was on the scene ....

Took the vacuum back out ... cleaned the butter off the remotes ... added paprika to the grocery list ... didn't yell.