If only I had a shell, I might look a little more put together today.

He said he just really wanted to be a turtle that day.

I guess this is as good time as any to confess my own inclination toward turtle-esque behavior, and that these urges crop up on a near daily basis. Except in my mind I'm not sprawled out on a goldfishcracker-laden floor, with an empty Lego bucket on my back. No. This is what I do: go in my room which is void of noise and clutter and boys, shut the door (maybe lock it), crawl in bed, and throw the covers over me until I get too claustrophobic to breath. So probably about two minutes.

But rather than looking cute, I'm positive this would look immature and negligent on my part. That's probably why I've yet to actually do it. Maybe I'll have to give Bosco's interpretation a whirl instead. At least then it could be considered Entertaining the Kids.