Last year about this time, I was really looking forward to our annual beach trip with the extended family. MJ had had no fewer than three ear infections and one bout of croup in April and May, and I had an equally vexing condition called "pregnancy" that had me up all night praying for more oxygen and trying to mix the best drug cocktails allowed to me with the help of the pharmacist at my all-night CVS.

So: Salt air, fresh outlook. I was pumped to get to the ocean that Saturday.

Flash forward to that Monday. All three of us sitting in the nearest urgent care office. The diagnoses as follows:

MJ -- pink eye, sinus infection.
Daddy -- sinus infection, touch of bronchitis.
Mommy -- pink eye, chronic sinusitis, bronchitis, and a 5 lb sack of flour sitting on my diaphragm. (I win!)

Do we know how to party, or what?

When I wasn't putting drops in my own eye that week, I was putting them in someone else's. Ever tried to hold down a 2-year-old to layer their eyelids with ointment? It's like roping a calf. Or, at least, what I imagine roping a calf is like.

Bottom line, this was one of the top-10 most miserable weeks of my life (in the bottom five of that list, but still...), and anything, ANYTHING, would be better than repeating that again. I have a few ideas about what that anything might be, and so do my fellow BBQers.

Check it out:

If you could take your kids to see any place in the world (and money was no object), where would you go? If you were granted one trip without your kid (and, again, money was no object), where would you go?

Becky: Ok. I'm torn between Hawaii and Disneyworld for the kid vacation. But since Amanda's a little young for much of the stuff at Disney that I'd want to do, I'm rescued and can say Hawaii! House right on the ocean with no one around except for a pleasant family next door with a little girl she becomes best friends with and who only appear when we need the kid/social time. Cleaning service. Professional chef. Nanny whom she'd adore to give mommy some down time. Ok, this is supposed to be a fantasy, right?

As for the me-only trip, it'd be Europe. South of France, Italy, Greece. Austria. I'd hop from one luxury train to another, rent villas, explore the vineyards, drink wine, and eat, eat, eat. Indulge in recent and ancient European culture until it becomes one big satisfying blur. Shop. Oh, yeah, I'd shop, shop, shop. Rent one of those Smart Cars 'cause I think they're cute, and ship it home as a souvenir.

Brandi: A vacation without the kids: I feel like I missed out on a lot of traveling during the summers of college. My friends were traveling while I was paying bills or paying for school. I would love to go to St. Petersburg -- had a roommate from there and I would love to see the white nights. Argentina or Chile; anywhere in Europe - I've never been. Manila, Philipines - my husband’s family is from there. Singapore - it’s a city but also a country; South Africa -- met some people from there while I was studying abroad in Australia. And I’d like to revisit Australia and go to New Zealand - missed the trip because I ran out of money when I was in Australia. Romantic Hawaii - the place where JoJo and I honeymooned; that would be a nice place without the kids.

A vacation with the kids: I don’t know if I’m up for that one yet; maybe when they are a little older? I would definitely want to stay in a house so my kids would have their own rooms to sleep and it must be baby proof. Can you imagine having a 2 1/2- yr-old and a 3 1/2-month old in the same hotel room? The baby would wake the toddler and then we are all up. The beach would be nice, but Eliana doesn’t like the heat so far. Somewhere cold would be nice, but what can you do with a baby in the snow? {ed. note: Ask my friend Amy from Chicago ... some adorable pictures can be taken with a baby in a snowsuit....} Hmmm ... I’m open for ideas if anyone has any.

Janice: OK, so I had my answer thought out until I read your Tuesday column about having Everything Right Now. I had read my National Geographic Adventure magazine and decided on our trip. It was a 30 day trip that went to wonderful places on a private jet hosted by National Geographic scientists and regional experts and only cost $175,000. I was going to dream on that for awhile ... Or dream about taking a year (or more) with Maya and my husband and traveling like we did after we graduated college (two of us traveled for a year on less than $20K!). But then your article stopped my brain in mid-daydream. I think it was perfectly directed at me, as I think about this issue constantly. I promised my little girlie that I would take her everywhere in the world to see everything. And that still stands. But I must admit that, for awhile, I was frantic, frantic, frantic, for her to see everything. She is barely three and has been on 64 flights and to 5 countries already. Crazy. We recently had a huge decision to make - do we go to Costa Rica and hike (go back to our hard core backpacking days) or do we go to Atlantis, sleep in a posh hotel and swim with dolphins? Last minute, we decided that our 2-year-old would get more out of dolphins than 12-hour-long bus rides and mozzie bites). So I have really struggled with this answer. I do want her to see everything and expose her to the wonders and the horrors of the world, but I am concerned that by the time she gets to be a teenager, everything will be boring to her and nothing will peak her interest if we continue down this frenzied path.

All that being said, I think we would go to Japan (my husband and I used to live there) as Maya is learning Japanese - and to take advantage of the "money is no object." (I can't totally turn off my travel bug.) I want her to shirk in the magnificence of Fuji-san, ride the shinkansen, marvel in the quiet of a shrine, be overwhelmed by the neon and crowds, wander through Gion, admire the grace of a geisha, dip her toe into an onsen, curl up in a kotatsu, sleep on tatami, and eat and eat and eat. {ed. note: Goosebumps!}

And for our vacation - the Hilton down the road would suffice just fine. Quiet and my own rules. That is all I need right now! (with a sidetrip to the Great Wall, Kilamanjaro, Victoria Falls, Goa and .... sadly time is now the issue.)

{ed. note: Yeah, you know that Four Points Sheraton a mile from us? That even looks good to us most of the time ... with a side trip to, say, Sanibel Island.}

Lisa: Trip with kids: my grandparents'd house in the Catskill Mountains of New York. We spent every July 4th there when I was growing up and I would love to give the girlies the sweet summer fun of picking wild strawberries, swimming in the spring-fed pond, hiking up the mountain and watching the firefighters auxiliary set off fireworks. {ed note: Dude, more goosebumps! Can I come, too? That sounds like the stuff that childhood memories are made of ... and were, apparently :)}

Trip without kids: back to Tahiti. It was by far the most beautiful place I have ever been. If I ever make it back, I am so getting a tattoo.


Beth: Well, if money and my newfound, inexplicable queasiness over flying weren't an issue, once the kids are quite a bit older and able to understand, we'd take them to Holland to see where their Opa grew up. Randy hasn't been since he was too little to remember (that's him, in his own grandfather's apothecary shop in Amsterdam; and the other shot is the outside of the old store today), and when I went a few years ago, it was before we had met. On this trip, there would be some universal lessons to learn about the world as well as about specific family history. His Opa survived about a year in a Nazi concentration camp right around the time Randy's dad was born. Tucked away in a safe place upstairs, in fact, is his uniform from that time. A trip to The Netherlands to connect the dots of family history on this side of the pond with the dots of family history there would be a gift. Plus, all the gouda cheese you can handle.Or is that Edam?

But while they're younger, and for pure fun, we'd take them to Sanibel Island, near where we honeymooned, and stay right on the beach and play and eat all day. The weather would be perfect, everyone would be healthy, sweet little sea creatures would pop their heads up and say hello (from a distance), life would be good. As for a trip without kids, I'd go to Australia. For some reason lately, I've really wanted to visit there. And also, I'd be able to snap my fingers and magically arrive without enduring airports, luggage hauling, public transportation or long flights. That would be perfect. And bronchitis would be strictly prohibited.

When you have so many toys on your family room floor that it's hard to find your children, it's probably time to get rid of a few things. Here are the items I'm pretty sure I most regret purchasing.

1. Fisher-Price Loving Family Twin Time Dollhouse -- I quote the husband: "Do you really want to buy that thing? Look at all the small pieces that come with it." Me: "It'll be fine. It has a garage for storage."

I will say this for the dollhouse: She does an excellent job of using it to mimic her parents' garage and house, which are both disasters.



2. The "Bubble Puppy" -- Our version doesn't work. Never did. But someone keeps taking it out of the "toy retirement" bin I created.



3. Weebles Peter Pan Tree House -- So, I had a Weebles treehouse when I was little, and it was awesome. It had an elevator, and it didn't play music. This one? No elevator, annoying pirate music and 10,000 tiny accessories.



4. Jacques the Peacock -- Parents magazine told me this was "the" toy to buy for infants last Christmas. Little L has no interest in it. I had to force her to have a picture made with him. He is cute, though.



5. Baby Doll High Chair -- I thought MJ would be so psyched to play with this. She wasn't.



6. Bathtub numbers and letters -- These little foam jobs are never used in the bathtub. But they are used in every other room of the house. Disastrous.



7. Everything ever purchased at Target's dollar bins ... EXCEPT this one, which is the most awesome and versatile toddler dress-up hat ever:



8. Winnie the Pooh and his Hunny Jar -- Schnookered by Build-a-Bear.



9. Royal Potty Chair -- Nobody puts baby in a corner, especially to potty train. This is the loneliest seat in our house right now. Royal pain in the ass.



10. Classic Pooh bookends -- Would be great, if they were used for bookends and not as toys ...



... instead the shelf is empty and the books are on the floor:



11. Tom Tom -- gift from our weekend to Williamsburg. Broken the first night.



12. Thomas book -- Books are supposed to be the smart alternative to plastic toys. Except this kind of book, which comes with plastic toys and plays music.



13. Mr. Potato Head Easter Edition -- Oh my, the spud carnage that lay around this house -- until I finally put that puppy in a box on a tall shelf. This little beast is the poster child for why toys should cost more than they do. "For $10, why not get it?" Why? Because you will be pulling plastic arms, legs and noses from every nook and cranny of your home for the next decade, that's why.



The only thing my kids really need? Each other. Yesterday, I put Little L in the playpen and went upstairs. I was gone three minutes. Here's what I found when came back downstairs: both of them in the playpen. Ah, togetherness.

Over the past few days, MJ and LL Cool Baby have really been rockin' the sisterhood thing, from complaining to companionship. When MJ leaves the room, she exits to much squawking and protesting and general bitching on the part of LL. Today I found her with a handful of MJ's hair in her chubby little hands, and MJ laughing beside her: "Mommy, she pulled my hair! Ha ha ha!" (Not so funny, if you ask me. It took a long time to grow that hair.)

Every time MJ gets up from a nap or up for the day, the first thing she says is, "Where's my baby?" And, of course, she continues to point out to everyone who visits or enters the room after a long absence -- including her parents -- that LL exists: "Mommy look!" she says, pointing in LL's direction, "It's a baby!"

Appropriate faux excitement ensues.

But by far the best thing I've heard from these two playing together is MJ's Rob Schneider impression. Adam Sandler fans will recall his line from ... well, every Adam Sandler movie ever made, "You can do it!" Lately, MJ will bait LL to follow her into the hallway, saying "You can do it!" as she army crawls her way toward her. It's not just the phrase, but the way she says it, with the rounded vowels and the whole bit. It's truly as if she means to do an impression of him, and I'm fairly certain she's never seen a single Sandler movie.

"You can do it, bab-eee! You can do it!"

She slays me.

I sometimes think our worldviews mimic the landscapes we grow up around. When she moved to North Carolina from Kansas for graduate school, my friend Julie used to talk about how "freaked out" she was by the trees here, and how they blocked the view. It's hard to understand what she means by that until you go to Kansas and see the difference for yourself: Look to your left, look to your right, and you can see for miles unobstructed. And it makes sense: Julie, a sports psychology professor at Southern Illinois, has a knack for seeing the big picture, the forest for the trees.

I grew up in the shadow of the mountains you see in the picture above, and I vividly recall sitting on the swings at the school playground and trying to "touch" the tops of them with my toes each time I flew forward. I did a lot of dreaming when I was little, a lot of imagining, bold and often improbable thoughts inspired by those heights.

So when we were driving home from a trip to West Virginia yesterday, we stopped at an overlook to show MJ and Little L the view. I walked LL over to show her the trees and the little stream below, and for some reason I started telling her about the poetry that she could find here, if she let herself find it. And here is what I love about my baby: She looked up at me as I talked, and then back at the mountains, and then back at me, as if to say she completely understood, and that it might just be the most fascinating thought she'd ever heard. You could say we had a moment.

A little late getting the BBQ up today -- OK, a lot late -- but sometimes life (laundry, dishes, kids, etc.) just gets in the way of this blog. I know -- the nerve! My life can be so rude sometimes.

Anyway, today we welcome Laura Feldberg to our little party -- Laura, who two months ago was so psyched to do the BBQ that she threatened to fill page after page with responses. And then something called "pregnancy" got in the way. Whatever. Like the inability to breathe because a fetus is crushing your diaphragm is really a good excuse not to participate in my frivolous little game. (OK, it's one the BEST reasons not to participate ... especially with the second pregnancy, which is 10 times worse than the first ... but that doesn't mean we can't give her crap over it. Nothing makes the mother of a week-old baby [and a 2-year-old] feel better than criticism of all kinds.)

To the BBQ! The posse tells you what must-have books your kids (and maybe you) need to get through the summer. Or at least tomorrow night's bedtime:

Which is your child(ren)'s favorite book at the moment ... and which is yours?

Lisa: Big girl favorite: Anything with Junie B. in the title. I have a feeling she acquired my obsession for reading everything in a series. Fortunately, we have Target and book-loving grannies to help us out.

Little girl favorite: The Grumpy Bug (http://www.nickjr.com/home/the_grumpy_bug.jhtml). It's an online story book so I'm cheating a bit, but it's her go-to story, and I am geekishly proud.

My favorite kid book of all time: Sloan and Philamena, or How to Make Friends With Your Lunch by Patti Stren. It's a wonderful little story about an ant and an aardvark who become great friends and move in together. Their friendship perseveres despite their obvious differences and they show everyone the true meaning of friendship. Also great on this same topic: Metropolitan Cow by Tim Egan.

My favorite grown-up book of all time: Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. It's about grammar, competitive junior tennis, Quebecois separatist politics, art films and 12-step recovery programs. It is weird and meta and funny and sad and more than 1,000 pages long. {ed note: You had me at Quebecois. You lost me at "1,000"}

Janice: I always read how kids get attached to a favorite book and you must read it 7,000 time before they will sleep every night. Not my kid. Don't get me wrong. She LOVES books. She lives to say (at 5:30 a.m.), "Mommy, please read me another book." At night, she is delirious with exhaustion and she can still utter, "Please ... one ... more ... book ..."

There are some books that are my favorites and I can "read" them with my eyes closed in a state of semi-consciousness; however, she lives for new stories and plots. So I must be alert with new voices and dramatic pauses. She loves everything and never requests the same book twice. I am partial to Olivia and Little Wombat. My all time favorite is I Know a Rhino by Charles Fuge. And sad to say, I used to consume books, but this is all I have energy for lately. (It has taken me three months to get 40 pages into World Without End by Ken Follet - which I think will shape up to be an awesome book.)

Brandi: Gabriel’s favorite book is Where’s Spot? By Eric Hill

My favorite children’s book (board book) so far is Moo Baa La La La by Sandra Boyton.







Laura: 1) This week it's Little Miss Spider (and rightly so for the month of May ... after all, it talks about how to recognize your mother. I can see where that would be troublesome for a spider, but hopefully Lucas can pick me out of a lineup. Not that I want to be in one...) and Rabbit.

2) I think my two favs are Oh, Ducky!: A Chocolate Calamity and Sheep in a Jeep. Hearing a 2-year-old say "chocolate calamity" is reward enough in itself. Try it. It's hilarious.

Becky: We've been reading books that are also TV shows. And lately that's been "Arthur." Fortunately, I love "Arthur." D.W. rocks. Some can be a bit long -- especially if we're doing the "special day" of four books -- so I admit I sometimes give her the abridged version. {ed note: That happens a lot around here, especially when the audience is dancing on her bed.}

For me, I've read two incredible books recently. The first is by James McBride, The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother. Sounds heavy, but it's written so well that I finished it in four days. Fascinating story about his search for identity, growing up the fifth of 12 kids in NYC during the 1960s, not knowing his mom was white and raised Orthodox Jew. He'd ask her why she didn't look like the other moms at the bus stop, and she'd reveal nothing. The chapters alternate: his voice about his youth, then his mom's about her youth. They are both amazing storytellers, and it's really entertaining. It's about family, childhood and the quest for who we are.

The second is Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild. OK. You may have seen the movie, which was brilliant, but also so sad, of course. I resisted reading the book for a while until a friend convinced me. And once I started I couldn't put it down. The amount of research the author did to track down what made Chris McCandless tick is astounding, and he blends it with stories of other men who went out into the wilderness, including Thoreau, and makes it all read like poetry. Still a tragic story, but not depressing in how he tells it. It's like a mystery he's trying to get to the bottom of. And luckily, I had a lot of time to read as Amanda was sick and watching a lot of shows between games of Candyland and dollhouse.

Fittingly, both of these books include the theme of children's relationships with their parents. Cool to see it from both sides now.

Beth: I now feel so illiterate. As I mentioned to some other moms recently, I've been reading the same non-fiction book since December. I'm two-thirds finished. BUT, I will tell you my new favorite children's book. It's called Please Is a Good Word to Say, and it's told by a little girl named Harriet (except, in our version, her name is MJ). Besides the lessons in manners it provides, it has a lilty little slightly off-centered tone to it, much like you might hear from a little girl learning the power of simple ideas. It also has phrases like "pluffy air," and "tummy twizzly," which you can't go wrong with. And finally, it has this passage, which I just love to read out loud:

"Oh, it is so especially nice to make someone feel good with your words. So I try to say I like something whenever I can. For example:

'I really like your party shoes, Grammie. I like the dazzles on them and I also like the bows. They are soooooo fancy.'

"Almost everyone likes to be fancy."

It kills me, I tell you. But for MJ, it's currently Knuffle Bunny -- which a certain Lisa on this page introduced us to -- and I Love You, Blue Kangaroo. All right, full disclosure: Kangaroo was a book I got for Christmas from my sister a few years ago, because I once had a bear ... we'll call him "Little Pooh" ... who was like a friend to me. Pooh was my Blue Kangaroo.

Happy weekend!

Friends, I hold in my hand a wondrous red envelope. It came from a little company you may have heard of called "Netflix," and it contains a little movie you may have heard of -- well, let's face it, probably seen -- called Juno. This is an exciting day for the Bunker household. Thursday night marks the season finale of "Lost," and the start of the summer movie-catch-up season, the three-month span of time in which Randy and I sit our asses down on a couch with Orville Redenbacher and a delicious glass of Diet Coke (me, not him) and find out what the rest of the world was watching while we were making time for "Gossip Girl", "Reaper" and other CW network classics. (Please don't go under, CW! Please!) Oh, sure, we'll tune into a few summer TV shows, like "My Boys" on TBS .. but mainly, it's all big screen on our little screen, all the time.

I am, for the second time this week, "geeked."

So here are the first 13 movies in our queue. (Well, 14 if you count Juno.) You could judge us for Bee Movie ... or you could make recommendations for No. 14 and beyond. We kind of prefer the latter.

1. Dan in Real Life

2. Enchanted

3. Knocked Up

4. License to Wed
(You may be seeing a pattern of stars from our Thursday night favorites emerging here...)

5. P.S. I Love You

6. Michael Clayton

7. Atonement

8. American Gangster

9. Bee Movie

10. Once

11. The Savages

12. Charlie Wilson's War

13. The Darjeeling Limited

Generally speaking, I've never been a fan of reality shows, not even the all-encompassing "American Idol." But I love "Dancing with the Stars." There's something about dancing that brings everyone down to the same level, so I was "geeked," as my friend Julie would say, to watch last night's final.

But the best dance I watched came from MJ. Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of my first date with Randy (yep, I still find space in my tiny little brain to remember that day AND my wedding anniversary), and we marked it with a nice dinner outside, a glass of wine and the always entertaining antics of a little girl. Yes, Kristi Yamaguchi had her hip-hop thing, Cristian de la Fuente had his hips and Jason Taylor had his macho muscles ... but none of them had the Beastie Boys.

I've tried to describe MJ's dance style in previous posts, but it's kind of a difficult task when there is no music that goes with it. Her dancing has its own kind of "musicality" -- to use a Carrie Ann Inaba word -- which, until last night, never matched any song she's ever jumped and bounced to.

Apparently, "So What'cha Want" is the beat she's been searching for. Every stomp was completely in sync with the music, every kick had a purpose. She even breakdanced, people. I can't wait to see what she does when I turn on "Brass Monkey" tomorrow night.

A few weeks ago, I read a story in The News & Observer about the Web site Do One Nice Thing, which encourages people to strive for at least one act of kindness each Monday. What a great idea. It was founded by a woman in Los Angeles with the idea that doing good for others makes an otherwise difficult Monday better for everyone, including yourself. The site is chock full of big and small ways to give, from grand gestures to those you can do while sitting at your desk waiting to speak to your boss (in my case, the cries of a baby being pestered by her older sister). There are also lots of ideas about how to give to other kids, and how to give with your kids. Not long ago, I wondered what to do with MJ's need to get her art on; D1NT has a great idea: Direct all that artsy energy toward homemade "get well" greetings for children battling chronic disease and long hospital stays. Easy ... and awesome.

One of the best parts about the site, though, is the section where "nice-a-holics," as they're called, write in to share habits they've formed to make the world a nicer place for everybody -- not just on Mondays, but every day. Check it out. You'll feel better instantly, and you might even end up making someone else feel better, too.

Just when I think I can predict exactly what MJ will be when she grows up, she comes up with a new little trait that makes me realize I have no idea where her life will take her -- not exactly a stunning revelation. Still, I like to play the game. In the past few weeks alone she's been a beekeeper, a hairstylist, a fashionista and a ... well, a kid who wears a bucket on her head, which I can only assume would land her a small part in an upcoming Will Ferrell movie.

But there are a few constants, a few talents that never go away. So, in answer to this week's Burning Question:

Based on what you know about your child(ren) today, what do you think he/she will grow up to become?

... I'd say MJ will major in toy science and get a job as an inspector of plastic cars, stuffed pigs and sandbox instruments. She'll be very thorough, but eventually unchallenged, leading her to develop her own product line of items not meant to be played with ... like measuring tapes, wrenches, discarded coffee containers and baby food jars. Sometime after her biography hits the bookshelves (complete with back-cover picture of her playing the giant piano at FAO Schwartz, a la Tom Hanks in Big), she'll be asked to appear on a late-night talk show, where, upon introduction, she will "dance" over to the interview chair. Her moves, a furious combination of spinning, flailing and stomping, will become an international (or at least German) dance craze called "The Goofball." She'll thus earn a spot in a future VH1 flashback series in which past and future has-been celebrities recall The Goofball's hold on popular culture, noting it as a "masterful cross between Soulja Boy and Elaine Benes."

Her sister will finally learn how to hold a bottle herself and will become one of those ladies on BBC America's "How Clean is Your House?" using her patented army crawl technique to find every piece of dirt and fluff that ever existed on anyone's floor. She will have a second, midlife career as a trial lawyer, badgering witnesses with a level of aplomb first crafted in a high chair while squawking at her parents for not feeding her quickly enough. She will be exceedingly successful at winning her cases, because she will follow each closing speech with a winning smile and a twinkle of her big blue eyes.

Brandi: Gabriel will be a middle management/office drone or actor/performance artist. Because he is generally laid back, doesn’t push the boundaries of anything, generally plays it safe and loves the approval of and willingly follows those who are older or bigger or who he seems to think of as wiser than him. BUT he has a great sense of humor and will sit and quietly (almost stealthily) imitate you with a gentle smirk on his angelic face … like his father. {Ed note: I know Gabriel's dad, and angelic is not the word that comes to mind to describe his smirk ...}

Eliana: Teacher or Diva. Sweet and pleasant nature, can exist peacefully with anything that she only tolerates, or finds only a bit out of her element ... like the rest of her family ... but will scream at you and punish your very soul for having to put up with anything she absolutely hates ... like not being held.

Janice: When I was pregnant (as all pregnant women do), I dreamed about what my little girlie was to become .... "tolerant, kind, happy and healthy." But now knowing this little person, I can start to put dreams to her little characteristics and personality. What don't I want her to be? (Well, actually many things ... stripper, hooker, drug addict ...) But as Beth notes, the possibilities make me giddy. But I guess, at the top of my list is to become Jane Goodall or Martha Stewart (Am I trying to make my daughter live the life I wanted? ... I know that is bad). {ed note: Nah. What are kids for?}

I do want her to become a mom. Ahhhhh sweet revenge served cold. MY mom's voice still rings loud in my brain "Janice - I can't wait until you become a Mom, and you will understand what I am saying ... (this threat applied to everything under the sun). AND, let me tell you, my Mom is getting HER sweet revenge ...

I do want her to be happy and and loved challenged every day .... Is that a cop out? OK, then my vote is Jane Goodall ... and happy. (She will always be loved).

Lisa: Big Girl: dramatic star of stage and screen. Think Susan Lucci plus Gilda Radner and you’ll begin to get an idea the level of spastic emoting I’m talking about. There’s no story that doesn’t benefit from her retelling it with hair flips, eye rolls and wild gesticulations.

Little Girl: the next MacGuyver. I fully expect to come home one day to find my Dyson turned into a working space shuttle. She’s a tinkerer and a fixer and has a memory like an elephant.

Becky: Happy, healthy, well-adjusted.

Now that we've got that out of the way ... Amanda would be the director of avant-garde theater, leading plays entitled, Ballerina Class, Going on a Trip, School and Cooking. Don't be fooled by the simple titles, though. These would be complex productions, using every costume and prop available, sometimes layering a dress atop another and putting men's pants on their heads.

Set designs would be cutting-edge -- so dense they'd obstruct the audience's view of the actors or so plain, like just a wooden table turned upside down for a car, that the audience would wonder if she fired the artistic director again. She'd run over budget, never go by the script and switch actors weekly, or just switch people out for stuffed animals when humans failed to follow her orders. She'd be admired for her gender- and color-blindness in her casting, though, and that would earn her fans around the globe. Theater critics would hail her as innovative, passionate, yet incomprehensible.

She'd eventually move on to film, just because she could, and be admired for her originality. A-list actors would beg to work with her, and she'd agree, not really knowing who they are and putting any overpowering personalities in their places. Misunderstandings and bruised egos would be healed with sweet kisses in true Hollywood style.

She'd win Oscars, Tonys and Emmys and direct the trophies in plays that she would film and independently distribute. She'd become a powerhouse, finally putting George Lucas and Steven Speilberg in their places. As her mom, I'd grant interviews to People magazine, and tell them her talent began as a toddler, playing pretend on the living room floor and that the stages have grown, but not much else has changed. Ah, what a girl!

At some point over the last seven days, I looked around the abode and realized that, if any of us were to come down with a mysterious case of food poisoning, the gastronomical CSI unit (G-CSI -- a new franchise; catch it this fall on CBS!) would have no problem identifying its source. I started taking pictures of the madness, and I am shocked -- shocked, I tell you! -- that any food ever makes it to the mouths of the little people who live with us.

So here's a little tour of why I won't be going anywhere near my laundry room until everyone is absolutely out of clothes to wear and bibs to dribble (or scribble) on. In the words of the great Horatio Caine, "This isn't going to be pretty ... is it?"

No, H. No it's not.

1. Sweet Potato and Apples
But it's organic, so it won't hurt the bib.



2. Mexican Food
Covered, literally from head to toe, in rice. How?



3. Macaroni & Cheese, Juice Box at the Target Cafe.
Target missed.



4. Organic Potting Soil
OK, she wasn't eating it. And let's face it: the organic part here does nothing to make me feel better.



5. Harvest Squash Turkey Dinner and Blueberries
It may sound great; but it looks like three hours worth of scrubbing.



6. I Seriously Have No Idea ...



7. ... But At Least It Matches the Skirt.



8. Fingerpaint
A true artist has no boundaries.



9. Breakfast.
I can think of more appropriate words than "Cutie" here.



10. Chocolate Cake
A noble and worthy washing foe.



11. Chicken Tomato Pastina and Apple Strawberry Puree
Hoity-toity baby food never looked so awful.



12. "Washable" Markers
That doesn't mean you can draw on your clothes. The picture has gone missing, but just imagine Jackson Pollock on your favorite white shirt.



13. Did I Mention Chocolate Cake?
Nice enough to mention twice.