Is there a doctor in the house?

I've shoveled about enough to last the rest of my life, but Jason and the kids were out there on Saturday building an Olympic-worthy sled trail.


The snow in the yard had melted down by at least half.  Caleb and I only stepped outside long enough to take pictures (thus the underdressed child).

Besides snow, winter also means dry air and illness.  To help with both, we run this humidifier.

Caleb learned a while ago that if you remove the white funnel top, it reveals a steamy shaft that's very good for storing paper scraps, socks, and Fisher-Price Little People.


More recently he learned that the top is also good for running around imitating a plague doctor.

He was charging up and down the hall like this.  Apparently he could see well enough through the skinny end of the funnel to mostly avoid walls.  

So we've got humidity and medical expertise covered here.  

Which is good to know, because last week, I was holding a squirmy Caleb on my hip while he was holding a cylindrical wooden block.  He suddenly flailed and delivered a roundhouse blow directly to the bridge of my nose with the block.  

Yes, it hurt at least as much as it sounds like it would, so that 6 days after I doubled over, blinded with pain, I could be found still popping ibuprofen and looking up "broken nose" on WebMD.  

I suppose if I need a cast on my face I know where I can get a snazzy mask to cover it up.

Ah, toddlers.  Searing pain, slobbery kisses, poor judgement and uninhibited fashion sense all rolled into a cute little bundle.