Perhaps the most disgusting sandwich ever

Today, at lunch, sitting at our table, I asked Shepherd what kind of sandwich he wanted.

“Penis Butter Sandmich”

Slightly amused, I chuckled inwardly, while correcting his mistake.

“Pea-NUT Butter Sandwich.  That’s Right!”

He smiled, and began demanding “Penis Butter” over and over and over again.

No matter how many times we go through this, my child cannot say his T’s.  I firmly believe he’s slowly erroding away at my sanity to achieve world domination. Either that, or I’m doomed to public humiliation when confronted with words like Truck, Peanut, and so on and so on.

My life is SO glamorous.

 

Midweek Haiku

Deepest Hazel eyes.
My soul can not hide the pain.
Darkness overcomes.

My Walls around, lies.
They paint my story picture
And ensnare the weak.

A bird perched alone
A bitter song I sing out
For freedom I long

This prison of self
The tortured soul wants justice
Yet daily I die

My deepest yearning
The unfulfilled dream of youth
My creator knew

To live as a song
Flowing freely up and down
Always moving you

Truth is hard to be
When oppression holds you back
The melody dies

Awake young pilgrim
Arise and take heart, alas!
Your savior cometh

He’s the truth you need
Your burden He’ll gladly bear
Just rest in His arms

No, nothing you need
He loves you as you are now
A beautiful song

 

In other news

Last night, Colette pulled up from sitting to standing, all by herself.  I turned around, and to my amazement, there she stood, holding on to the side of the playpen. In my shock, I asked Forrest if he’d helped her, “Help her what?” he said, and I pointed to Colette, standing and grinning.  We both nearly fell apart with laughter and joy as we watched her bounce up and down, so proud of herself.