I just had a four-year-old come into my room as I'm writing this, asking if she can take off her pants and put on a tattoo.
I don't know what kind of show she thinks we're running here, but I understood when I looked up at her: that would be a tutu, darling.
Last week, after the homemade passport photo debacle, (and you must know that we had three or four separate photo sessions followed by running all over here and beyond trying to find a place with decent printing services, all for naught) it was decided that we would task the professionals with the impossible job. So off we went to the other side of the city, and the professionals took approximately 10 minutes to obtain suitable photos of all the children, who calmly and peacefully obliged with perfect passport poses. Naturally.
On the way home, we had to stop at this epitome-of-ice cream-parlors, Aglamesis Bros. I'd just been out this way the day before, and stopped at a very swish yarn store next door. I knew I'd have to bring the kids in, because really...how could I not?