I do know what the youngest is up to:
Ten minutes ago I found him in our bed, asleep. I'm not sure why he felt it necessary to unmake a bed that isn't even his, but then, the mind of five-year-old boys can be difficult to understand. Knowing Caedmon, he has a detailed rationale he'll explain to me later, hopefully after a nice, long nap.
We're all a little tired today, after the assorted merry-making that accompanies Christmas and Derek's birthday yesterday (Happy Birthday, Husband!), and a visit from my mom and Mark. Among other things, Mom addressed the items on my list mentally titled Things I Need Mom's Help With. She looked at the zipper on Atticus's coat that stopped working two weeks after we bought it a couple months ago, and voila! Presto, needle-nosed-pliers-oh, it is fixed!
Aside from a now-working zipper, please note my solution to the problem: Hand-sewing thick velcro patches on the coat (the velcro's other side is on the inner lining of the coat on the opposite zipper-side, if that makes any sense) so that our son could close his coat throughout the winter if the zipper proved to be unfixable. Now it's just a fabulous fashion statement, like those tiny pockets you sometimes see on the upper arms of women's shirts, which I can only think must hearken back to when men rolled packets of cigarettes in their shirt sleeves?
Mom also took a look at my right hand and wrist, which has been bothering me for a couple weeks now, generally when I put any weight on it or use it to lift anything even slightly heavy. She messed with it a bit, spoke some of her nurse-hoodoo over it, listened when I showed her that, "See, it isn't swollen at all," before showing me that it actually was swollen, just in a different spot, and suggested the possibility of a small stress fracture. Being somewhat, um, accident-prone herself (hey, sisters, remember when Mom cut herself with a chainsaw? Or maybe it was the tree limb that hurt her so badly. Either way, a chainsaw was definitely involved), she understood when I couldn't recall any particular incident that might have caused this. She did suggest compression immobility...or something... and to avoid yoga for a while, so I called her a mean, mean lady. (Kidding. I wasn't going to anger the woman who had within minutes just fixed a zipper that had been galling me for weeks.)
I have been following nurse's orders, avoiding yoga and wrapping my hand before I spend hours outside shoveling snow, because she said nothing about not shoveling with this hand. It's possible she expected me to be smart enough to work this out for myself, in which case the joke's on her! I am most certainly not that smart! Hahahaha...ha. My hand hurts.
In other fun news, our dishwasher has been gracing us with offerings of screws in the bottom of its basin, which I now find with disturbing frequency upon opening the door after running a load. I can only think it has something wonderful planned for us.
Now I have not one but three children awake and clamoring for a mother who apparently does things, like fixing an already worthless pencil sharpener and reading endless Berenstain Bears books. I hope you're all enjoying a lovely recovery time after Christmas, or at the very least you have a good book to read.