I actually wrote "post blog entry" on my to do list for this week. This completely undermines the whole reason I started a blog in the first place. And, for Pete's sake, in my first entry, I dedicated it to my Grandpa Bill, who was NOT a stuffy guy. So, in the interest of taking some of the pressure off myself and in making this a tad more interesting for my three readers, today I'm not going to write about anything philosophical or theological. I am going to write about my children.

You know you live with preschoolers when:

While shaking the wrinkles from dryer fresh clothes, peanuts fall onto the floor.

Your baby's first non-milk protien comes from the pizza her sister decides to feed her while she stands in her crib. (They were both supposed to be napping.)

Pizza is about as close to serving all four food groups together for lunch as you get for days at a time. (Well, if you don't count peanuts as part of the meat group.)

You're not suprised to find your kitchen tongs behind the TV in the toyroom.

The first place you look for anything lost is behind the TV in the toyroom.

"Name that smell" is everyone's favorite game when getting into the van.

You know that the most putrid smell in the world is a forgotten sippy cup full of GREEN chocolate milk. (I shudder as I type the words!)

The medical assistant at the doctor's office compliments you on the cute stickers you have on your back.

You find cute stickers on the inside of the cabinet doors.

You find cute stickers on your underwear.

You find your two year old putting cute stickers on the van. ("The baby wanted to look at them." she says.)

You vow not to let anyone have any more cute stickers. (Until the checkout lady at Kroger offers your cute cartful of children stickers for being so well behaved, sigh...)

You love the wet, sloppy baby kisses your nine month old smears across your cheek.

You love to see your baby giving wet sloppy baby kisses to her big brother while he gently plays with her. (Never mind that she's got a cold-ugh!, he's being gentle.)

Well, gotta go, someone wants to give baby kisses.

More later...