The Cultured Pooper

Robbie pulled himself up on his crib. He's been flirting with the idea for quite awhile, but finally succeeded after an unsuccessful attempt to give him a nap. Forget TV, Jim and I stick him on the bed between us and just watch him squirl around like a drunken pinball.

Charlie is sick today. We're hoping it's just a cold, but the regurgitated applesauce spewed all over the floor suggests it's the"F" word... The three letter one that ends with "u". No one wants to say it for fear we'll jinx ourselves.

We started a food cleanse today. I won't call it a diet, since that conjures up visions of points and low fat cottage cheese or something. It's largely for Jamie, who's a hefty 37 lbs and could stand to lose a few of those holiday pounds.... Jk. I'm trying a grain free... Sugar free... Almost-everything-free, in hopes it might help his attention span and slightly (and totally adorable) neurotic behavior. (that he definitely does not get from either of his parents). *cough *cough* We're on day two, and while I'm sure it's too soon to tell, he did sleep almost twelve hours last night instead of his usual seven or eight, so maybe it was that good ol' high fructose corn syrup and red number five that was keeping him up.

Since I didn't want to go grocery shopping with the sick McGnarles (one of Jim's many nicknames for Charlie). I raided our dead garden in hopes of finding something gluten/sugar/dairy free, like a shriveled up, forgotten squash or bell pepper. Instead I found the heirloom tomatoes we planted last year had gone all zombie-fied and refused to die. They had taken over the garden, choking out the mint and threatening the all-mighty rosemary. *gasp*
Now I have a bumper crop of green tomatoes I don't have time to deal with. But hey! I did get creamy, green tomato soup out of it for lunch, and Jamie didn't bat an eyelash at the strange, non-matching color/taste.

Robbie learned how to do a manly yell that does not belong on a baby. Charlie continues to happily impress his siblings with his vast dinosaur vocabulary, even though he often insists the dinosaurs are dragons. And Jamie is probably not the first kid nor the last to act like the iPad is surgically implanted to his hands.