Ryan came home from work and made some Chicken Cordon Bleu breadbowly things that were as tasty as they look.

We're a lucky bunch. ;)

(Recipe!)

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You don't need a kitchen scale when you have a perfectly functioning scale on the floor of your bathroom.

True story.

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Finn has plastic shapes that drop into their box through cut-outs on the lid. It has six different shapes, so it's a little advanced, and he gets a little confused, but if you point him in the right direction he has no trouble twisting the piece to get it to drop down.

I was letting him struggle with finding the correct spot on his own when he decided he'd had enough. He lifted up the lid, threw it to the side, and started tossing them all into the box.

You could tell he was thinking, "Why are we making this harder than it has to be? They fit just fine like this and you don't have to do it one at a time!"

Now he won't do it the right way. I'm pretty sure he's convinced he finally solved the puzzle.

I guess he did.

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Cael: I don't eat poop.
Allie: That's good. You're not supposed to eat poop.
Cael: It's not food. It's not even a snack.

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