He's definitely the third child

We are still unearthing toys. They're stashed everywhere—in boxes of books, in boxes of dishes, in boxes of books, in boxes of clothes, in boxes of books...and, well, we mostly brought books. And toys. But mostly books. "The tools of my trade," Andrew calls them. "You wouldn't ask a carpenter to work without his tools," he tells me. I credit blame Patrick Mason for teaching Andrew this argument. On the one hand this has made unpacking a snap. On the other hand all our bookcases are full and we still have a few boxes of books left. *sigh*

Fortunately, I was a librarian in a former life (you know, the one before I had kids) and I can keep books on the shelf. The toys, though, are another story. They were packed everywhere and now they just are everywhere. I'm working on it (but organization is not my strong suit, especially with a bunch of littles running around).

Today I pulled out a box to unpack and found that it was mostly full of too-small clothes and toys, which was perfect. I worked on it for a minute before sitting down to compose an email to Rachel's teacher (she had a difficult day at school yesterday (Rachel, that is...not the teacher (though she may have had a difficult day, too...I don't know))) and I left the box on the living room floor beside Benjamin who, for once in his life, was kicking around happily.

Miriam noticed some toys inside the box—toys that had been "missing" for several weeks now—and she excitedly asked if she could get them out. I told her that she could and went on typing my email. I looked over my shoulder after a few minutes and saw this:

Uhhhhh...guys...a little help here? Anyone? Bueller?

I think it's hilarious that he's basically staring at the "do not entrap a child with this lid" sticker. And didn't feel bad at all about taking a picture before I freed him—because he's not in the box (there was plenty of air under the lid). And, yes, I explained to Miriam that she shouldn't put lids on her baby brother.

"Buh t'why?" she asked.

She asks that about everything, and always with a ringing contraction betwixt the /t/ in but and the /w/ in why. But why? But why? Buh t'why?

Eventually I answered her with that dreaded response: "Because."

"Oh," she said. 

Because 'because' means the conversation is over.

Mr. Potato Head was in that box. So I bet if I told you that Miriam started giggling uncontrollably a few minutes later you'd be able to guess why.

Yup. It's Benjamin. In Mr. Potato Head's glasses. And it was adorable and hilarious all at the same time. 

It's always adorable and hilarious. Why is that? I guess it's one of those childhood cliches that never grows old, like knock-knock jokes.

Okay, maybe not quite like knock-knock jokes.