Here's what went down In the Trenches early this morning, and thus the title of this entry:
Scene: Eldest and Middle downstairs. Eldest at the dining room table, copying the names of Red Sox players from the 2006 program guide into his new 3-ring notebook. Middle, lounging on the couch, blanket on lap, thumb in mouth, watching a Richard Scarry video. Me, seizing the fleeting opportunity, heading upstairs to fold laundry. Baby, on my heels, because lately wherever I am, he's with me, apparently in that "I Can Only Be With Mommy and Not Daddy" stage.
I begin to fold the pile of whites on the bed. Baby trots around in our bedroom, just happy to be allowed in there with me (this is a room from which he's usually banned, as he tends to pull out the contents of dresser drawers, bathroom drawers, etc.) Quiet from Baby. I lose track of where he is and what he's doing (in my concentration to fold underwear, I guess).
Baby then comes into view, wearing a pair of his smudged sunglasses (upside down and crooked), Hubby's oversized green Red Sox ball cap on his head (backwards), holding 2 of my (still wrapped, thankfully) tampons from the bathroom (one in each hand), and MARCHING, as only a pint-sized, wobbly 20-month old can do...
I so need to buy a new camera.