Lists

Here in my home. Nothing is sacred. Everything is potentially the butt (ha,I said butt) of a joke. Sometimes I worry that this is how we are raising our kids, but what can I say? They make me laugh.

I recently made this scrapbook page.



You might need to click on it to read Dave's addition to my to do list. It's at the bottom. This page is not a work of art. It's what I call "slap and scrap," you throw down a photo, or in this case a list, and quickly tell the story that goes a long with it.I threw in a stamp and some patterned paper too, and arranged it all in a nice grid. Memory preserved. Done.

The funny thing is, I realized that this tendency to add to my lists might be genetic. Because Max made an addition to one of my to-do lists as well.



And last week, Sam was VERY angry at me. In his rage, he wrote this note and put it into my bag, so that I would take it out at work, which is at a preschool, and everyone would think that I wrote it:



His anger subsided by the end of the day, and he removed his note before my reputation was sullied.

And just in case you think we only use hand scrawled notes to play pranks on each other, and express our rage, I found this handmade card from Sam, written in 2008: