Last night I scrapped 9 pages in Alice’s baby book. I hate doing baby books — they’re nice when they’re DONE, but they’re a pain to DO. Things aren’t chronological (which drives me crazy), and you have to collect information and compile it onto one page. Too much research involved — it feels like homework. I’d much rather just slap pages together and call it DONE, but the Baby Book is constantly out of date with every trip to the doctor, every milestone reached, etc.

That said, I’m downstairs with Helen right now and Alice is asleep on her daddy’s chest upstairs. I’m trying to figure out if I can sneak up to the dining room and do a couple more pages in Alice’s book without any “help” from Helen. I doubt it. She’s been itching to “cut out letters” with my die cutting machine. She had a lot of fun stacking up paper scraps yesterday.

Uh-oh… There’s unrest upstairs. I hear Jerry and Alice descending with the dogs. And there goes my quiet morning. Hmph.

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