“Ride bike down the stairs,” says Slade, who is sitting on his tricycle, at the top of a long flight of stairs.
“Absolutely not,” Sally tells him.
“Ride. Bike. Down. Stairs,” he demands, and I say no this time and Slade yells and yells. The 2-year-old is fearless, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Otherwise:
a. I seem to have misplaced my brain sometime yesterday evening. If you find it, please return it.
II. I went for my first open water swim in the lake yesterday. Even with a wet suit on, it was cold. Fun, too.
trois. A nap sure sounds swell.
14. My parents left yesterday, and Slade has been waddling around the house going, “Grammy, where are you?” and “Papoo, where are you?”
Okay, I’m off to wash dishes and bathe boys and change a diaper and read a story about a goose or the moon and continue living this rock star life.
Bad Chemicals 
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