"What?" slightly alarmed & groggy, I sat up.
"What happened to her face?" he repeats. "Come up stairs and look."
I roll off the bed where I had been reading and follow him upstairs, racking my brain to remember if she hit anything, ran into anything, ate anything---anything out of ordinary.
Upon opening the door to her room I realize what he really means is what did she do to her face.
That's washable marker. All over her arms & legs & face. I let her sleep it off.
First thing Saturday morning, "Good morning, sweetheart, what did you draw on yourself?"
"Those are my race numbers mommy!"
Oh, right, silly me.
We didn't discover the rocks under her pillow until much later Saturday. Sometimes I'd really like film of what she does to occupy herself until she actually goes to sleep, it must be an impressive imaginative display what with all the random objects and stacks of books we find.
A great weekend with the beginning of football and some lovely fall-type weather. The Maple out back is already beginning to turn I think.
Go Broncos! and by default, Go Packers!