Recently, Mr. Pants decided that each day we must take pictures of his favorite toys.

During this very important ritual, I noticed that Plum had a begun a ritual of her own.  Photo Bombing.

Every little boy needs a pair of fairy wings.
Every. Single. One.

When life is unfair and things make no sense, these two crazy kids find a way to bring comfort. I have comforted them and kissed their boo boos and held them while they have barfed all over me. I have changed seven thousand poopy diapers. They've pulled my hair and peed on my clothes. I love it all. Even the Midevil torture that is teething. Because there is nothing more comforting than their love. Especially when they work together to make their mama laugh like they did yesterday. Squeezing into tiny spaces together and thinking they were brilliant comedians.
Look at me! I don't fit in here! Don't be sad, mama...

They lured me from my sadness and challenged me to laugh. Mr. Pants pulled out his creepster voice (a cross between Kermit and the dude from Sling Blade). Seriously the creepiest and most hysterical kid voice of all time and when he pulls it out, Plum believes he is the most fantastic thing that has ever lived. And man does that just egg him on.

Not to be outdone, she breaks into song. Delivering her repertoire of favorite tunes. Complete with hand motions.
And Pants begins to realize he has lost the spotlight and reflects on his ability to hold an audience's attention.

I sit and watch the show. These two. And for a few minutes I am taken on ride away from my sadness. I am so grateful.

Sometimes when you are sick, you need to sit and watch Sesame Street with your daddy.

But taking your medicine can make you sad.