Learn to like the cage.

M is my 2-year-old daughter. She has a knack for getting into everything that is either breakable or poisonous. It does not matter how high up it's been stored or even if there is a lock on the cabinet; she finds a way. Just ask the good folks at the state's poison control hotline. One more from us and they might start to answer our calls with, "You guys again?" She simply cannot be trusted.

Lately, she has really been into hanging out in her big brother's bed. She loves jumping, bouncing, cuddling under the covers, and climbing into the far corner where I can't reach her without climbing into the bed myself. She does this to avoid naps, baths, or just generally make me mad.

When I put her in her crib for a nap today, she told me, "I want a big-girl bed. This is too tight." Just to illustrate her point, she grabbed slats on either side of the bed to show me how "tight" it really is.

Sorry, sweets. As far as I'm concerned, you'll be in a crib until you're 18, because that's how little I trust you. There is no way that I am giving you the physical freedom to get up from your bed. I fear for your safety and the structural integrity of my house if you have such freedom. Who knows what I might come down to in the morning? The last time I took a risk and left you unsupervised so I could go out to shovel snow, I came back to find my living room walls, floor and furniture freshly decorated. With maxi pads. They were stuck everywhere. Granted, nothing was broken and there was no call to my friends on Speed Dial #1 (my pals at poison control), but you did waste a package of maxi pads. The next time I'm in need and I don't have any in the house, I will blame you.

So, my dear, get used to sleeping in the fetal position, because it will be the only way you'll fit in that crib when you're 16. Oh, and then, it will probably have a padlock on it. I'll trust you even less by then.

Damn ice dams

I have officially had it with New England winters.

As a teacher-on-hiatus, I loved snow days. My sister (also a teacher) formed the "Snow Day Committee," which included like-minded teaching folks who also enjoyed themselves a good snow day. Then, one year, we had so many snow days that the school year went until the end of June with the days added on. Have you ever tried getting teenagers to retain anything when it's June, it's beach weather, and the classroom is soaring past 100 degrees? Well, it's...difficult. So I stopped rooting for snow days, and my sister revoked my membership on the "Snow Day Committee."

Fine by me.

Now I have REALLY had enough. The playroom is leaking because the ice dams are so thick on our roof that the water is backing up into the roof. Lego building is just not as much fun when water is dripping on your head.

Hubby was in town (thank you thank you thank you), so he went to work trying to clear away some of the ice so water could drain off of the roof. He went up on the ladder with stockings full of calcium chloride. I'm home with the kids all the time, so who needs stockings? They're all yours. The lightning came, so he got down. But he was back at it again today, and drainage has been achieved. Dripping has ceased, at least until the next snow storm leaves us with another ice dam(n).

And I am just ridiculously grateful that this all went down while hubby was actually home, and not in Dallas or Miami or Minneapolis or San Diego, or any of his other work sites. PHEW!

Screw the Snow Day Committee. Bring me summer, please. NOW.