Ants

He catches them. He eats them. I let him. He comes and shows them to me, pinched between his fingers and in his teeth. It's gross, I know, but I figure, if I had poisoned them, I'd worry. Since I haven't, he can crunch a few. He's a boy, and he's just hunting.

Little Miss Jump Rope

In her last few weeks of kindergarten, Tatum took to jumping rope. Talked about it all the time, and when I'd come up to the school, we'd have to go out to the playground so she could show me.

Until yesterday, we didn't have one of our own. We used to, but I remember throwing it out because Braiden kept tying things up with it and it was making me nervous. So Tatum has improvised with a plastic slinkie, a computer cable, and my pajama pants.

Yesterday Grandma Francie came to the rescue. She brought some jump ropes as party favors for the Braiden and Tatum birthday barbecue. Tatum is in heaven.