I recently posted about my struggles getting liquids into our newly turned one-year-old. She seems to have something against sippy cups.

But this morning I figured it out, rest assured. Apparently, the key to getting a rather stubborn 1-year-old to drink from the sippy cup she’s suddenly avoiding for no clear reason is to mix whole milk and Yo Baby drinkable yogurt in a sibling’s Go Diego Go cup. Who’da thought?

Somewhat easily averting another all-day liquids ban should have been my first clue that numerous crises were incoming. As I poured a cereal bowl full of milk down the drain (why do kids pour ten times more milk than they intend to use?), I noticed that the drip line to my o’mighty peach tree had exploded.

“Big Daddy?” I called, “I need you.”

And out he went to dutifully remedy Crisis #1 as only he can.

Then, as we stepped out our front door amidst screams of “Don’t Touch Me!” and “Mom, he looked at my foot!” I noticed another flood making its way from the somewhere deep in the ground–possibly the Earth’s core itself–to the street. “How much water can we waste before noon?” I wondered.

Big Daddy said he’d figure out the problem after he returned home from a full day of first grade.

Thirty minutes later, while attempting to drop the 4-year-old off at preschool, the classroom door was inadvertently opened–right into George’s head.

“I don’t want to go Mom; I want to go hoooooome,” cried George. “Under normal circumstances, dear, we would totally go home right now and eat our way through a box of croissants. But you know that our family rarely experiences normal circumstances and today is no different,” I calmly replied.

I had a formal business meeting to attend, and by formal I mean that I had to actually get dressed, and I was already 8 minutes late. Plus, when I say that my kids and I are a package deal, I’m entirely serious. The folks at Wildflower Bread Company were totally thrilled with my 1-year-old who took the opportunity to get in some target practice with her goldfish crackers.

After that, in no particular order, the dog threw up, a blind’s valance came crashing down out of nowhere, and the kid who finds even flip flops too heavy to pick up and put away announced his plans to be a bowler when he grows up.

“Why bowling?” I asked.

“Because with bowling, you don’t really have to do anything. I can live here forever!”

Alrighty then. But only if you take a few lessons from Big Daddy and learn how to fix the irrigation lines.

***

At this point, I’m too tired to do anything more than grab a bowl of Cheerios, get into PJs, and will myself to make it until bedtime. Also, I’m thinking that perhaps I should be a bowler when I grow up. What do you want to be when you grow up?