Not sure why I think this is funny, but I've recently rearranged closets, which I do twice a year when the weather changes significantly, and as I'm doing so I realized.....
I don't know which day will be the last day I wear my winter coat.
At any rate, why does this matter? Not sure, other than it always being interesting in the fall when I put on my winter coat for the first time that season and find 6 month old grocery receipts, mints, used tissues, and a pair of my son's socks.
I told a friend recently that we bought this kitchen table expressly to be the "kitchen table that gets destroyed while we have little kids." It has a cherry butcher-block top, stubby steel post legs, and chairs that match the table legs and have black vinyl seats. If necessary, the entire set could be moved outdoors and hosed off. I've debated that on a few occasions, but haven't done it yet.
As evidence of the kidness of the kitchen table, you can see the fork marks where Liam stabbed the table repeatedly. This was right after he started learning to use a fork on his own. I think he figured we were finally arming him, and the table was his adversary. He took to it with relish. No, not the food, the table. No, he doesn't eat relish, come to think of it. He doesn't eat much of anything still (yet?) - but when he first got his chubby little fist on a fork, he jabbed at the table over and over. There are little pockmarks on that section. Looks almost like the table had a bad case of acne in its adolescence.
Luckily, Anastasia was a little gentler on the table. She's smeared every substance known to man (and a few unknown) on the table, but it doesn't seem to mind. Who knows, maybe some of that mayo/tepura paint/glitter glue/macaroni cheese doodle/yogurt/peanut butter acted as a "conditioner" and helped the poor table recover from Liam's violence.