Every once in a while someone will ask me how I manage to post something here every. single. day. I normally respond by saying it's really not that hard once you get in the habit of doing it. Plus, I genuinely enjoy the challenge of figuring out what about that day made it different from all others. That's really the key for me; if I don't know what to write I ask myself, "Self, what did Alexis do today that stood out?" Good, bad, or ugly, it's a question that always has an answer.

Yesterday, however, my brain couldn't process that thought all that well. It was nonfunctional after rushing around like a crazy person to get errands done then capping the day with the mind-numbingly awful music at that cult-like place we call gymnastics. I totally slacked on managing to note that a couple of really "outstanding" things transpired.

1-It's hard to explain why this is a HUGE FREAKIN' DEAL, but Alexis went first during an activity at gymnastics. Alexis is not a Go First kind of girl. She is a Hang Back and Watch Everyone Else kind of girl. It's not to say she doesn't have some signs of mad leadership skillz goin' on, she just prefers to observe before showing everybody how it is done. I can absolutely relate (hello? Apple? Tree? Yup.), but there is NO WAY I would have been willing to be the first to show a new thing on the balance beam. So, go Team Alexis!

2-Somebody needs to fess up. In our midst is someone who has clearly tortured the poor Toddler in a way that defies logic. For two and three quarter years, the child has been zen with the vacuum. She has ignored it, rode it, pushed it, licked it (seriously), and generally been totally OK with its existence. She's had plenty of opportunities to turn against the thing. After all, we have lots of furry things running around our house. If we don't vacuum up all the fur the cats, dogs, and husband leave behind at least once per day the living room floor starts to look like a giant crusty sheep.

And yet, yesterday the poor kid started shrieking and bawling as she climbed walls in a fit of sheer terror while Mr. Husband vacuumed. The vacuum is SUDDENLY Toddler Enemy #1. The only explanation I can think of is that someone has either been giving her Dyson hickeys in her sleep or they've been dumping the dust/fur/food/other things too disgusting to think about in her bowl of Wheaties. Who did it? Who traumatized the kid into being scared to death of Mr. Dyson?

When I find out? That will make for a "different" sort of day. Ahem.