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My oldest needed a photo of a military veteran to whom he is related for a school music project called "Our Heroes" this week. I was able to quickly put my hands on the photo I wanted (big thanks to my aunt). My grandpa. As an unexpected treat, she sent along these two as well: I can see my white-haired, rotund grandpa in the face of that young sailor. And I know that the story of this day, the day in the photos, is still probably fresh in his mind. And the days that followed as he boarded a ship at the end of the war. And I wish that I had been smart enough to ask him about those days when his mouth and tongue and voice could still form the words to share those stories without stumbling, slow, frustrating effort. How is it that three photos can make me smile, make my heart swell with happiness, make me mad, bring a lump to my throat and make tears pool in the corner of my eyes? All at once? Love you, Grandpa. You will be G's hero.

May flush closed (only if an original round Bakugan). Will generally not flush while open. May eventually flush over time. Except when deposited in conjunction with the aforementioned Bakugan. Will never, ever, ever flush if the shaving cream is flushed while still in the can. If travel-sized, however, the can will travel far enough up the toilet innards to necessitate the removal of the stool from the water supply and drain in order to retrieve. Not sure about every Sonic Sea Tot, but the Orca is definitely not flushable. Big thanks and shout out to my 3 1/2 year old twin boys for this educational plumbing-related post.

When we bought our house almost four years ago, I was six months pregnant with our twin boys. We closed on the house in September and did a few months work to it before moving in at the beginning of December. The boys were born at the beginning of January. Before they were born, we had the whole interior of the house painted including cabinets and some trimwork. We had carpet replaced with hardwood floors. We changed light fixtures. We pulled carpet from kids' bathrooms and put down tile. Tons of progress. After the babies were born, we did just a bit more work to the house - the biggest effort was replacing all of the front landscaping. The previous design was a mish-mosh of poorly placed shrubs and not-thought-out plantings. Trees were removed. Beds were made larger and replanted. We didn't take out one bothersome tree at the time - and that finally happened today. I gave J the green light and he wasted no time. It was a pretty tree - but it totally blocked the front of the

I hear through the grapevine (Twitter) that this new blog just got a book deal. Dammit. I totally could have created this one, using only my twins as subjects. I give you: Shit My Kids Ruined

My daughter can get under my skin like no other. And I am slowly realizing that is due to the fact that she is very, very much me. Now, she certainly has some traits that are NOT me - like the class-clown, ham-it-up-at-all-moments behavior. That is NOT me. That is her dad, for sure. But the rest of it? Me. Ears like radar. Me. Need to constantly use the ears to listen to conversations that don't necessarily involve her. Me. General bossy-ness. Me. Precocious personality. Me. Talks a bit too much when she's comfortable with someone. Me. The newest development, though, is something that warms my heart. And excites me. I can't wait to see where this goes. She has fallen in love with books and reading and history. She can't get enough. Her weekly library ration of five or six chapter books lasts only a few days. She constantly tells me random historical facts, gleaned from the latest Magic Tree House book or from one of her brother's infinite non-fiction choices. She&#

Remember the scooter from last week ? Well, this is what happened last night in my driveway when I was at a business dinner. He's three, y'all. Not almost four. Not even three-and-a-half yet. He still wears a pull-up at night. (And please forgive the no-shoes, no-helmet look - it was Dad and no one truly thought he was going to ride for real...)

My youngest child is athletically gifted. I know he's only three - and we don't put any pressure on him to any do of this - but the kid can throw a ball, swing a bat, swing a golf club, dribble a basketball, and dribble a soccer ball like nobody's business. My husband and I frequently see him do something and then just look at each other in silent amazement. Enter the Razor scooter. The three-year-olds received darling three-wheeled, beginner scooters for their birthday in January. They spent all winter whizzing around the house in them. It was fun. Come spring, we moved the three-wheelers outside. But H abandoned his quickly in favor of his older siblings' two-wheeled Razors. Way cooler, I guess. After about a month of dedication, this kid can now balance perfectly on the two-wheeled scooter. He is a force to be reckoned with.