Tag Archives: mischief

A Completely Ordinary, Totally Typical Day

We close out the 2012 Summer School Mud-Pie season with a typical day. An accident report.

Destroy bonked his head. To paraphrase:

Kid was running amuck and fell. Unclear what mischief he was up to that ultimately caused the latest goose egg. Hugs required. Continue reading


Sometimes You Just Need a Midday Milk Margarita

Quesadilla’s were on the menu. It’s a balmy 75-degree day and cheesy wrapped chicken sounded appropriate.

Apparently I forgot the avocados. This was a crisis-situation. Because what toddler could *possibly* eat a quesadilla without avocado?

I went to remedy the situation. Continue reading


18 Months and Counting

It’s been 18 months.

Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call’d Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he? Continue reading


Search and Destroy

Back when I was just a normal pregnant woman, waddling around with healthy gestating twins, Grandma Nancy nicknamed the future muppets Search and Destroy.

Prescient. Continue reading

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Doggie Dilemma

The muppets were having a grand time exploring and discovering this evening. Search was hanging out in the Bumbo chair and Destroy was enjoying some tummy time. He can practically push himself all the way up onto his elbows.

“Look at you, Destroy!” I cheered, “Good job!” He lifted his little head up an impressive 90 degrees, grinning. He was extremely pleased with himself. He looked directly at me, laughed, arfed and face-planted. Looking slightly less pleased, he looked back up – completely covered in baby vomit.

I scooped him up as he contemplated what had just happened. He clearly had not anticipated that; he wasn’t crying, merely a bit disconcerted. As I wiped off his face, ears, neck, head and collar, I heard paper ripping in the other room.


“Scout! Bad dog!”

I quickly put Destroy down and left him and his brother laughing hysterically to one another.

Scout had nosed his way into the office, pulled a packing slip out of a box, returned to the front of the house and ripped the paper in half. He shreds paper products. (Like my birthday present.)

One of the most popular questions Jon and I get asked is about how our furry four-legged sons are tolerating the muppets. I suspect they think the muppets are puppies; Cooper thinks they’re duds since they don’t throw tennis balls. Scout just loves his people and wants to spend as much time with them. Their dilemma these days is how to get away with their mischief when Mom and Dad are distracted.

We’ve always had dogs with unique personalities. Scout, of course, has the passion for paper. He also dines on cardboard and gift cards… The first day we left Scout home alone, we returned to find that our retriever had collected every shoe in the house and transported them to the front rug. “Look Mom! I retrieved!”

He’s since moved on from shoes. I think he may have gotten his fill of leather after consuming Jon’s work boots and two baseball gloves. Now he searches out paper products to destroy.


Cooper is a bit stealthier. Uncle Paul calls him “The Inspector” because he needs to completely examine his surroundings before turning his attention to anything else. Three years ago, right around this time of year, I decided to make gingerbread men. (They turned out quite tasty if I do say so myself.) I took a break from folding laundry to get a drink of water where I happened upon Cooper in the kitchen, perched on his back legs. He had jumped up on the counter, pulled the plate of cookies toward him and was eating them one at a time. There was no mess, no remaining cookie out of place.

Like a scene out of a sitcom, I stared at the dog and he stared back at me – paws still atop the counter. I could see the wheels turning in his canine cranium as he tried to hatch an escape plan. But then who would throw the tennis balls?

I know our four kids will get along famously. (That’s a terrifying thought.) And I’m sure the gang will provide some memorable stories to be shared here. As for tonight’s caper caught in progress, the muppets thought it was hilarious.