Excuses, etc.

A large part of the reason I rarely post, besides my endless to-do list, is that Blogger is driving me crazy. The photo uploader just plain sucks. It's a fancy piece of programming that is all spiffy and shiny and doesn't work worth beans. I can upload the photos, but then it won't add them to the post. I go through a long series of restarts and eventually it begrudgingly puts the photos into the post, but only in some random order.  I barely have time to blog (lots of inspiration, but it always seems to get lost somewhere in the space between my head and my laptop) and futzing around with dysfunctional crap only makes it worse.   The photo uploader is only part of Blogger's general dysfuncion.  C'mon you Google peeps!  Get it together!  Keep it simple, make it work.  That's all I'm askin'.

Whine, whine, I know.  I'm just a little short of patience, and I've been trying to write a blog post for three days.

THIS child.  This child is another reason I have trouble posting. 

This adorable little imp is... something else.

Someone once told me to get a good pair of running shoes once Evan becomes a toddler.  While I'm extremely anti-shoe, I understand the sentiment.  I just put out his fires (even cute ones like hanging out my wet laundry on the porch baby gate) all. day. long.

He crammed several marshmallows down faster than I could get to him to take away the bag (and put it up high in a tree) when we had a campfire the other day.

He's obsessed with shoes and BOOTS! and wears any and every shoe or BOOT! he can find all day long.

As I write this, he's wearing one moccasin and one little black oxford.

(I try to make sure he gets lots of barefoot time in, too, though, because I'm a big believer in the magic of bare feet.)

(Oh, and see that t-shirt in the photo above?  Yeah.  That sums him up, I think.  Nathan commented that it just wouldn't have been so cute on Jonah.)

He loves to play with Jonah and he loves to fight with Jonah and he loves to antagonize Jonah.

He loves to sing.

He loves to eat.

He babbles very enthusiastically and articulately non-stop, and NOTHING makes any sense to us.  It must make sense to him because he is consistent and repetitive.  He must be a prince from some other land and knows that language well.

He's as demanding as a prince, too.

His favorite books are Green Eggs and Ham and Mrs. Wishy-Washy and I read them both a million times per day.

Last night at church, he fell and bit clean through his lower-lip.  (Owwwwww!)

He actually has a fairly regular habit of bashing his face in one way or other.

So to recap:  Evan trashes the house, eats everything in sight, and generally has a great many needs including, but not limited to books, shoes, cuddles, umpteen diaper changes, cold washcloths for his face, an industrial vacuum cleaner... aaaaand now he's going upstairs, where I also hear that Andrew has awakened  from his nap, and it looks like I'm burning supper on the stove over there, so maybe I should end this blog post that ended up being not about what I thought it was going to be about, and get back to it.