Good Night, Sleep Tight

My Quinlan is growing up oh so quickly. My little Peapod is now chattering away non-stop, dressing and undressing herself ad naseum (to the tune of piles of clothing littering every room in the house. Seriously! Make it stop! She's not even three yet!). And her busiest enterprise of all: mothering every possible "baby" she can find.

She specializes in shepherding Ribh around the house and helping her baby sister achieve levels of mischief heretofor unattained by 12-month-olds. Recently they emptied a plant onto the living room floor and then flooded the delightfully filthy remains with water for the purpose of

A) Science Experiment : to see if plant particles would continue to thrive if water (which likely came from the toilet) was added
B) Creative Expression: a la performance art (for Mama to enjoy).

This creative expression included mud rubbed into Ribh's hair aboriginal style and dirt art on Dr. P's expensive bachelor wide screen TV and precious speakers. (Psst. Don't tell P. He doesn't know about that. I cleaned it up. He'd freak.) I didn't take a photo because while I was thinking about it I threw the girls in the tub and then the phone rang and then the girls wanted OUT and Gabe wanted IN and then I just cleaned it all up really fast while all three kids ran around nude and the phone rang some more.

But Quin's "sleeping babies tableaus" abound. Here is a photographic sampling. Trust me when I assure you that this a mere smattering of the myriad baby beds which crop up on every possible surface all day long.


Quin at "work", putting a few "babies" to bed with a purloined washcloth and dishtowel.

Dora rests with a dirty dishtowel and a bit of "night reading" in the form of "The God Particle", a book about Quantum Physics.

Two Polly Pockets sleep next to a Happy Family Mama doll and her counterpart, Happy Family Daddy, is doing the Brokeback Mountain thang with Storm Shadow of GI Joe fame (Don't Ask, Don't Tell says Joe) around the corner of the communal bed.



And here, Hello Kitties sleep in a bed made entirely of bread crusts.


Overheard Recently:

Quin: (eyeing up Gabe's new Robot Dinosaur, undoubtedly calculating which towel would work best to swaddle him to sleep) Gabe! Your Dinosaur is SOOO CUUUUTE!

Gabe: (scornfully and protectively) He's not CUTE Quin! He's a ROBOT! (Translation: keep your Family Bed, granola eatin' ways OFF my scary new toy!)