I came to the realization last night that the blog has morphed into some kind of house-building hell slash teenagers suck blog lately and really the point of this whole thing is to share with the Internet how awesome our family life is an how incredibly cute and wonderful our children are.

(Please don’t tell TeenHer I called her cute, lest she come into my room while I’m sleeping and put headphones around my ears playing Panic at the Disco or some other equally torturous act.)

And because I’m obsessed with this house and the rifle and the events of the last week, I don’t have audio clips to share with you of our trip to Panera. I really wish that I did have those, because I truly think that the Internet might explode with cuteness if you were to have a listen to the squealing delight that ensued when TeenHer’s pizza arrived at the table. (My apologies to the entire dining room of Panerra, who are likely visiting their ear doctors today, perhaps buying hearing aids) I shouldn’t be surprised about this development in ToddlerA’s dietary preference, given the genes she shares with her father and sister, who would happily consume only pizza for every meal for the rest of their lives. Actually they could probably, and would probably, live on just the bread and cheese, a fact that makes me very grateful to have new plumbing in the new house.

This morning the baby who is, please remember, just 2 years old, spied an empty pizza box on the counter (we’re on cooking strike until we get into the new house) and cried out to me while spinning in circles: “mommy! I’m hungry for PIZZA!”. She continued, even after her hair of the dog breakfast of cold pizza and beer, to talk about pizza for the rest of the day. When we loaded her into the car with promise of shopping and dinner, she lit up and said hopefully, “Pizza!?” The chorus of “pizza! I’m hungry for pizza!” accompanied us throughout our trip to Bed Bath & Beyond, the evil superbigmart of home gadgetry and can’t-live-without-it cookware, and so we had to flee the store and unleash the screeching pizza fiend on the restaurant patrons. Relax, anti-breeders; we ordered takeout.

So, never fear, folks. I’ll get to posting about my adorable family in all their adorableness very soon.