The Effects of Rainy Days on Small Children, and the Joys of Breaking One's Oven

I woke up this morning to an alert on my iPod: a rainfall warning had been issued with seventy millimetres of rain expected over the next twenty-four hours. In my mind's eye, I saw cars being carried down the raging streets-turned-rapids, waves crashing into telephone poles and houses, and off in the distance, a large wooden structure gaining buoyancy with heretical Hollywood giants pounding on its doors.

In actual fact, we had a fairly modest drizzle, just enough to prevent the kids from playing outside. Naturally, this gave the children more energy, which found its expression in the unusual acrobatic feats they nonchalantly performed around supper time.

Robyn can now mount tall furniture. This is frightening to us, because unlike our two older children who had a healthy fear of most things, Robyn seems to lack inhibitions entirely. It's pretty cute to watch, though.

Jesse has taken (today) to standing on his head. That's what extra energy does to young children. The more energy they have, the less gravity seems to affect them.

On an unrelated note, I accidentally left the oven turned on all night after enjoying some late-night French fries. (I recognize that this is a dangerous and unfortunate matter, and I do not mean to take it lightly.) As we woke up from an unexpectedly warm night, I realized my error and quickly turned off the oven.

Too late, it seems. The oven wouldn't turn on for the rest of the day, and Chrissy was forced to order Pizza for us. This is the joy of breaking one's oven.

If you look carefully into Janna's eyes, you can see her muted angst over the fate of the stove. Right?

And then we flipped the breaker and all was well.

Wired, but well fed,
Until next time...