MIA, and A Story.

So I now know that you officially cross the threshold of crazy when you hit three kids. I'm sure someone will say that it's because they're so close in age. And I'm sure my response to that person would be expletive heavy. So between Kell's arrival, the start of school and soccer, Dash entering the terrible 2's and Brooks starting a new job, it's been a little hectic around here.

I have some pretty good stories to share, but as it turns out it also takes three kids to master the whole sleep-when-the-baby-sleeps deal too. And then, this one couldn't wait. And I want to save anyone who thinks that maybe they too can grocery shop with three under 4. Fin, the good child of yesterday, is walking next to the cart. Kell, in his bucket, is in the front basket. Dash is in the big part of the basket. Kell's seat is so tall I can't see Dash. As I put things in the cart, Dash is trying to open and eat everything (before you tell me I'm an awful mother for bringing a hungry child to the store, understand that Dash is ALWAYS hungry. Or, more accurately, will always try and eat whatever is around.) Then I hear Fin yell that Dash has the eggs. I immediately stop and run around to the front, picturing him moving the carton of eggs. Nope. He has ACTUAL EGGS. IN HIS HANDS. Looking very full of intent-to-toss, he starts yelling EGGS, EGGS. Thanks kid.

I guess it would have helped the visual to acknowledge that the kids are in LAX shorts and crapola tees, Fin is covered in paint (from school), and Dash's shoes are on the wrong feet (DASH DO IT MYSELF!), and Kell is in an old onesie (it was 104).

I'm thinking we should just go ahead and have another one.