The sort of thing that happens here

I've been meaning to mention this, but I'm just getting around to it now. Sorry. (Not that you knew I was holding out on you, but whatever.) So one day a couple weeks ago, Phook started to seriously dismantle our toy room. (It was ages ago, in fact, in that Phook is wearing a dipe in this shot and Phook, let me remind you all with a very large smile on my face, no longer wears dipes.) Anyhow, it's not that she doesn't wreck shop in there when playing on a regular basis, but this was different. She was purposefully removing every single toy from the shiteous old bookcases where a good portion of her toys normally roost, and chucking them into a pile. I believe I was assisting Pig with his breakfasting when I head the cacophony. I looked in the room and saw this scene:

(Don't you find the label on the storage basket in the lower lefthand corner absurdly appropriate?) So anyhow, I looked in there, I saw that a hurricane had occurred. I told her it was a nice mess and that she'd have to pick it up at some point, and then I went back to attending to the Pig. Big K was showering for work or something when this went down, so when he became available I told him there was some amusement for him to check out in the toy room. He did. He looked in just in time to witness absolute hilarity. Phook reached into the mountain of plastic shite that no child should ever be able to amass in a mere 32 months of life and pulled out the item she was apparently desperate to find. She grabbed it, looked up at Big K, and very casually but with no shortage of surprise, declared, "Oh, here's pink bahnkie!"

Maybe you had to be there. Probably. But dudes, it was hilarious. As if pink bahnkie had been hiding behind the Happy Meal My Little Pony toy she hasn't touched in 7 months. As if pink bahnkie had been hiding underneath a miniature Elmo Easter basket. As if pink bahnkie had been anywhere other than attached to her body as it always is. She declared with sincerity that she found what it was she had been looking for...apparently a difficult task given that she had to clear two complete bookcases stuffed with toys in order to complete it. Funny shiz.

So this mess persisted for awhile that day, and I decided we should just embrace the disorder and play in it. At one point mid-morning, I threw Pig in the pile. I also threw some Cheerios in the pile to keep the Pig extra happy. (And you should already know about how Cheerios function in my home.) So Pig was rabble-rousing about in a heap of brightly colored objects that were busy giving him lead poisoning when I noticed something looked funny about his foot. Specifically, he had grown a sixth toe. Not one to have a problem with innocuous physical deformities (I've always wanted a tail, you know), I was kind of excited. But as it turned out, the sixth toe he had miraculously sprouted turned out to be a Cheerio. You can see how I might have been confused:

Now I laughed really hard about this. I made a scene, actually. I got Phook in on the game and we all had a hearty chuckle at Pig's sixth toe. Really, this is the kind of shit that keeps me going some days. Phook definitely knew that the Cheerio-toe had pleased me. The reason I know this with absolute certainty is that approximately 7 hours after the initial amusement broke out, she came out into the kitchen to show me something "weewy funny." It was this:

How awesome is that? Very awesome, if you ask me.

Those kids, man. They're some kind of rad.

Okay, so I'm feeling vaguely self-conscious about this post, like you are all going to read it and think, "Woman, what are you on? That is not remotely funny." Well, I have an answer for that question too. Valium, friends, valium. I know, I know. But I've sucked helium out of the valium balloon or valium out of the helium balloon and the result is this post.

I should explain. Friends, my neck is freaking destroyed with muscle strain right now. I have a history of intermittent (and sometimes crippling) neck pain stemming from the car accident I had years ago that also blew up my low back. So I've had a few severe flare-ups since I started toting around a really robust baby. I'm mid-flare right now. I believe the word is actually conflagration. To make a long story short(er), I have long had a prescription for a muscle relaxer, but it puts me in a coma, so I can only take it at night...and even then I wake up the next day feeling like a trucker who has been on the interstate fudging his log books for 2 days. So I called my doctor today in a state of desperation - you know, not being able to turn my head at all in either direction and causing my husband to stay home from work to wipe butts because the task was beyond my capabilities - and she called back and prescribed valium, saying it is sometimes used to treat muscle spasms and that some people have less drowsiness with it than with my regular prescription. I was directed to take half a pill of the smallest dose they make. I did. An hour later, you could have landed an aircraft on my garage roof and I would have casually asked the passengers if they liked my geraniums after they deplaned. Granted, I didn't want to pass out, which was nice. But I did find that I was not exactly cogent. I can see why people enjoy taking valium when they do not enjoy what is really going on around them.

So that's where I'm at. I have no range of motion in my neck, I'm somewhat stoned, and I'm really excited about the new issue of Newsweek I just received, since its cover seems to indicate that it includes information that might help me solve the mystery of Oprah, which is perhaps the most burning question in my life. Also, the Pig is freestyle standing and I predict that his first step will occur on Thursday. I'll keep you posted.

XO,
Big W