^^^ Captured by my sister-in-law after the boys came into the kitchen letting us know they were now ... cheetahs.
I'm horrible at returning library books. We have quite a few books in our collection that started out being free and ended up very expensive. One of these prized books for which I paid fines and then for the replacement book in order to be able to use my library card again is this baby. I think I checked it out at the beginning of 2015 when Ryan and I used to do "preschool" for 20 seconds to 20 minutes a day. He would trace the sandpaper letters while I narrated, "Diagonal," or, "Across," or "Up," and tried not to fall asleep from pregnancy fatigue.
Normally the length of silence directly correlates to the immensity of destruction at the hands of toddler youth. As of late, as we move ever so slowly yet ever so steadily toward having children at the age of reason, silence in this apartment has extended to either mean catastrophe or cuteness (well, cute according to me, the woman who birthed them). This is the scene I peeked in on last week:
But don't let me forget ... I have library books due on Friday.