Let's talk about washing a load of laundry. I'm not talking about washing and drying and folding. I'm talking about getting one pile of dirty clothes into the washing machine.

Today I needed to wash a load of laundry. So, I knelt down to put the pick up the pile of clothes and put them into the laundry basket. Naturally, since I am close to the floor, the boys both see it as an opportune moment to climb on me. No problem. That's a minor setback. I can just reach my arms around them.

Then Harvey thinks (I can SEE him thinking this) "Oh! Cool! We are putting things in the basket." I try to get him to put laundry in the basket, but he decides it is much more fun to run into the cold storage room (several times) and gather armfuls of canned food to put in my laundry basket. Whatever. He's having fun and using words. It's good for him.

So, I'm done loading up the laundry, and unloading the canned food. I have to stand up. The trick is that if I get up and put Grey down, he will scream. A lot. So I have to stand up with him on one hip and the laundry basket on the other. Part of being a mom, right? No big deal.

So I stand up, and just as I am getting onto my feet, Harvey grabs onto the outside edge of the basket and tries to hang there with all his body weight. Of course, the basket tips. The laundry spills. Harvey cries. Grey wants a turn!!!

That's one load of laundry. And that is how the days go. Every day. With EVERYTHINg -- we are not just talking about laundry anymore.

It's a good thing they are so stinking cute it makes my heart hurt with happiness.