Sam just broke this croquet mallet he found in the garage and has been carrying around for two days. He didn't so much as break it, per se, as unscrew the head from the stick.
Jack carries it in, one in both hands, and says, "Mom, I knew Sam was going to break this. Where's Daddy anyway? He's the Handy Manny around here."
Heavens, if that is true, we are in big trouble people.
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Also, the babysitter I had today, the sweetest thing in the whole world who my kids absolutely adore (whose name is Catherine and Jack calls her Cath-room as in Bathroom) asked me when I left:
"So Sam is walking now?"
"Yes, definitely."
"So, what should I do if he like, falls down?"
"Well, I wouldn't say if, he will fall down about 100 times, and just act like absolutely nothing happened, because that is what he will do."
I come home several hours later
"Miss Alicia, I'm glad I asked you about Sam falling, because he fell about two seconds after you left and I think I would have been nervous otherwise."
Um, yeah.
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