While I fought off exhaustion for the better part of the afternoon, Lucy and Maggie waged war on my sanity with their crazy antics. Take, for example, this photo. Just after a nightmarish bubble bath, coupled with a failed attempt at hanging mini blinds (wrong size!) I emerged from the drenched bathroom to find Lucy sitting on the kitchen table, picking my flowers apart. Now I understand that surmounting furniture is a natural stage of toddlerism but until this moment Lucy has shown no sign of interest. Nor had she shown interest in dumping her milk out of her cup, painting the kitchen with it and rubbing it in her (freshly washed) hair. These events took place while I was salvaging what was left of my flowers. Just a snippet of one nutty day. Does the fact that I stopped to take a picture of it make me totally commitable?
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