So my husband has always insisted that our purple couch is really a black hole in which everything lost will be found in our house.  There is some truth to that, as we often find the normal stuff, the phone, the remote, and random magazines wedged between the cushions.  We also find some not so normal stuff like a pepper shaker, underwear, important papers, and random sippy cups that now contain formula yogurt.

The piece de resistance happened a couple nights ago.  Long story.  In an effort to get L to be more involved in the day to day, I have been letting her pick out a recipe from a children’s cookbook that she can help make that night for dinner.  She picked Fisherman’s Pie (which was excellent, by the way.  Basically it’s Shepherd’s Pie with salmon and shrimp and a chowedery type sauce instead of beef).  Unfortunately, I had a raging headache that evening, J was only happy if he was staring at himself in the oven door, and cute nephew was streaking across the living room pantsless (which is fine until he takes the diaper off too).   L, of course, decided she didn’t want to help.  So on top of all these things going on, it turns out the cookbook is Canadian and everything is measured by weight rather than cups.  (I also found out that a zucchini in Canada is called a courgette.  Who knew?)  So I find my trusty scale and everything is going along fine.  John came home and immediately started to help with the kids (isn’t he great!?!) when somewhere in the midst of the chaos, the scale is missing.  I figure I must be going crazy between the headache and the kids and must of set it down somewhere.  A minute later, John calls from the living room, “is this what you’re looking for?”  And sure enough, the scale was in the couch.  I’d like to think I’d have the presence of mind not to put the scale in the couch, but given the state of the evening, I have no idea.

Oh yes.  I did get L to mash the potatoes.

(Picture is from Easter.  TOO much candy!)

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