Last night, when I was not getting up to go to the bathroom or finding a comfortable position in which to lie (impossible), I dreamed a dream, or in other words, I saw a vision. I dreamed the new baby was born August 9. This is why I knew it was non-prophetic: it was the 9th yesterday. He was also about three months old when he came out, and I immediately reverted to my pre-pregnancy shape. Hmmm. Maybe it WAS prophetic. We can only hope.
Now to the true stuff. We have inherited (thanks Benn!) my brother's old bunkbeds for the boys' room. Since he got them when he was 14 and he is now...28, we no longer have the instructions on how to put them together. However, I put them together. Because I am awesome. I did not hear cries or crashes in the night, even though Spencer was sleeping on them, so my conclusion is that I did a dang good job. Thank you.
This morning, I changed Sabrina's diaper and asked her to take off her pajama shirt while I grabbed her clothes. She's 2, so anything that asks her to be self-sufficient may just get a "yessss." Unfortunately, she decided to stand up to take off her shirt. Fortunately, I was just close enough to her to catch her about 6 inches from the ground when she pitched headfirst off the changing table, where I had foolishly left her. Well, lesson learned. Never let her do anything. Sorry, 17-year-old Sabrina.
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