the emergency

Emergency appears to be a losely used term in our house.

For example, the other day Cam called desperately for me to come downstairs. It was "a 'mergency! " I went storming downstairs only to find the doll high chair he had been playing with had come apart and he needed me to put the cloth backing back up to make it usable. Yep, an emergency.

Well, the other day Sam and Cam came flying up the stairs, nearly in hysterics, crying about an emergency. Apparently Sam's bed (top bunk) was about to come crashing down.

They handed me this half a staple. (Penny is for size comparison)

You see, the bunks have a slat system for the mattress to rest on and I think they had pulled on a staple from the spacing tie. These poor lads were convinced the loss of that half staple was a foolish mistake on their part. And I didn't inform them otherwise. What happens if they start on the 999 remaining ones???

And one more picture from last week. Leah invited the girls in her class to come for a birthday party. Take 15 girls and add a garbage bag of dress up clothes and you get a lot of fun.

We needed a new cake since the other one was already gone and Steve was sweet enough to ask me the night before the party if there was anything he could do to help me. It didn't take me 3 seconds before I offered him the cake decorating chore. Or at least it's a chore if your initials are LCO. (I just realized how close that is to loco... it explains a few things.... but I digress)

So, my dear husband, cake decorater extraordinaire, decorated a cake for our Leah that she was so proud of that as her guests arrived to her party one of the first things she did was haul them into the kitchen to see "the cake my daddy made me!"

Perfect? Depends who you ask, the professional cake decorator or 7 year old daughter. I can tell you right now whose opinion matters to me!