My children have big ears. Physically-speaking, maybe not, but their listening skills when I'm not actually speaking to them are tremendous. Children must have invisible forcefields around their faces so that if you speak directly to them it bounces off their noses and back into space.

Last night we enjoyed a late dinner from the bounty of my first garden. Katarina, Mike and I were the last ones to remain at the table. Noticing Anabelle's dirtied plate beside me I called out to her. In return a sleep-filled voice answered from the bathroom.

"She must have fallen asleep on the toilet," Katarina said, giggling.

"Don't laugh," I replied. "Each one of you has fallen on the toilet at one time or another. Usually when you were two or three years old."

"When I was little, I dreamt about the toilet and then I had to go," she mused.

Mike agreed. "I've dreamt about that too."

From the living room, where Sam seemingly sat uninterested in our conversation but all about playing magnets, he shouted, "You BOTH drank outta the toilet!?!?"

It took a long time to get everyone calmed down for bed.

Almost a month ago, Mike installed a mailbox on my request. I've been ecstatic since we no longer have to pay for a post office box and the kids beg to take turns checking the mail. Since this transition, we've occasionally taken advantage of the library's mail-order system and started using Netflix. Anabelle just walked in the front door, proudly holding a bundle of letters and such, and yelled, "Let's watch the mail!"

I'm assuming that means we have something from the library... ah, yes, the newest Veggietales movie - Minnesota Cuke and Noah's Umbrella. I guess I'll join them to go watch the mail.
( ;