The reason I have a G&T in my hand right now

I believe M. (ahem, in his one and only post on this blog to date) called my commute "a quiet, peaceful meander toward the hills of western Maryland," one that helps me arrive "at work calm and ready to face the day." Apparently he neglected to tell Finn this, as evidenced by the loud screaming, crying, shouting, and general pain-in-the-butt-iness that issued forth from the back seat of my car during my entire 25 minute ride home today. I'd rather get groped on the Metro.

This has become way more common than I'm comfortable with. Tuesday the screams were because of the stick! The stick! The STICK!!! Why is the stick sitting on the back seat of the car, instead of trapped in my sweaty little hand??? I need THE STICK!! All said far less eloquently, of course. In fact, it was quite incomprehensible, and I was only able to decipher the meaning of the screams once I had pulled the car off the side of the road and pointed at every single object in the back seat, finally winning the coveted "yeah" after about twenty emphatic NOs. And let's not mention the fact that the stick was, indeed, out of reach because one of us (not me) threw it there in the first place.

Who me, cause trouble? Never!


To remind myself of how cute my pain-in-the-butt can be, and score some points with my grandmother, a few recent pictures:

Don't call me - I'll call you:


Ready for my close up:


Ready for a rodeo:


A new target group for The Week - toddlers??: