There are so many things I can’t tell you about. It’s rather exciting. For me. For you, this entry will be an exercise in frustration. Such is life. If you want obvious, listen to popular radio.
First, good vibes traveled to Maryland and now need redirecting redirecting to D.C. And the wilderness for a while. Just think really good thoughts, please.
Second, I can’t tell you about Operation Last Chance, but please send your good vibes to the 13 border.
Third, I can’t tell you about Targeting Tout de Suites, but please send any leftover good vibes toward my old route. It (see what I mean about frustrating? a pronoun with no referent but that which resides in my voice-addled mind) is nigh impossible, but nigh not is not nil, you know?
Fourth, tomorrow is a big anniversary for someone small, and two people big. Yay for all of them.
Now that I haven’t gotten that off my chest, we simply must settle in for the revelation of my week (don’t hold your breath; it’s pretty pathetic by my old standards, and painfully important in my new game of hang-onto-sanity-and-patience-by-the-skin-of-my-teeth).
I’ve figured out how to get a toddler to tolerate nail trimmings. [That didn’t need a drumroll for most of you, I know. But nobody told you to read this schlock during your free time, you know. You allegedly have free will. So please rethink your judgments and click away if you must roll your eyes at me.]
So the secret is this—trim the nail so that the soon-to-be discarded trimming is left dangling. If possible, do half of each nail at a time, leaving a piece dangling in two different corners. Small one thinks she rules the world because she can peel off the dangling bit. Wee one feels he gets the last word because you only start the process, and he clearly trumps you in usefulness by ripping the offending nail off and tossing it wherever you both decide is appropriate.
Terrible, really, that such revelations take hours off my week and two degrees off my slouch. But nobody (except BNPs) said it was going to be easy.
But, oy, did they sugar-coat it.