Where does the bear keep his roar? In his DRAWER!
What kind of bagel does a weasel like? POP!-pyseed!
Why did the chicken cross the road? Elephant under a rock!
Where does the zebra keep his stripes? In his garbage!
Why is afraid six afraid of seven? Because one two three four five six seven eight nine ten!
In the wading pool, the girls squat and drop golf balls into the water behind them. The familiar plop in the water makes them burst into arpeggios of laughter.
In the car we play Sing-a-Different-Song. Daddy insists on the same “deedle-dee dee dee duh-dee dee” from the Internet gophers every time his turn comes around. “It’s Nora’s turn!” but I don’t hear anything. I turn around to see her grinning, frozen, paralyzed with glee.
And now for our news:
Nora wears big girl underwear now! No more diapers!
“I’m peeing!” cheers Nora from her little potty seat. “It’s lemonade!”
Mia corrects her, her voice heavy with disbelief. “You can’t see it.” We call it a good pee when the urine is pale; the color of dark apple juice tells us to drink more water.
We have a chipmunk living under the stove.