I must have thousands of pictures stored in my computers, a USB storage, and Picassa. But even though I try to record each little thing in our lives, I can’t of course. Sometimes I wish I had built in cameras in my eyes; the funniest, most tender, sweetest things always catch me unprepared.

Picture #1: El Cangri, dressed with his super cute pirate T-shirt–striped ivory and burnt orange, with a skull and bones applique. I ask him, What are you doing baby?” and he answers roughly, growling, “Para mama (stop mamma)”. I walk around the kitchen counter, and I realize that not only is wearing his pirate outfit, but also a knight shield and his dangerous (what was Santa thinking for heaven’s sake!) wooden sword. He glares at me, all macho and menacingly walking away trying to freeze me in my place with his look, while Swan’s pink plastic and feather high heels clack in his feet.

Picture #2: I go to the kids’ bathroom to put away some clean diapers, and I realize someone didn’t flush the toilet. I call the culprit and make her not only flush the toilet, but also scrub it with the brush and wipe it with a Clorox wipe (I know, what a mean mom! Hopefully the lesson was learned). Five minutes later my Chubbers comes dawdling down the hallway. She’s barefooted, wearing a cloth diaper with no cover (she’s potty learning!). Her hands, icy cold, t-shirt soaked through. She’s struggling to swallow as fast as she can, so I won’t make her spit the water. In her chubby hands she holds a small paper cup, one of those the kids use to rinse their mouths after they brush their teeth. The bathroom door is wide open. The floor around the toilet is slippery and wet. I make a double take at her and the cup, and run to take the cup away and wash her hands (I debate about making her rinse her mouth with mouthwash, but we only have mint flavor. Too hot for her). I lock the bathroom door, and I pray, please!!!!!!, that she only started doing that after the toilet was clean. I know it’s so gross!!!!! I give her a dose of echinacea/goldenseal, and pray again. But she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind (and she’s not too far off), and says, “Te quiero mama (I love you mamma).” I put her down, and she runs to knock on the bathroom door. She sits patiently outside, and sings “Old Macdonald.”