A little stool at McDonalds

A stool to step on, I mean. This is not a potty training story. Sheesh, guys, give me some credit. :-)

Silas and Rosie love going to the "french fry park" to play, but Rose isn't big enough to climb to the top level. The top level being where all the tubes and slides and cool stuff are.

So, a while ago Nathan brilliantly suggested bringing a stool for her. (He's got a Ph.D. and thinks of all sorts of cool stuff like this.)

It's awesome. I no longer have to be the mother who climbs into the play place with her kids and makes all the other kids feel awkward. Think kids are too busy to feel awkward? Oh no. Plus there's the whole problem of keeping your pants and shirt at the appropriate level, 'cause it's really easy for your pants to slip a vital few inches as you pull yourself around on these things. Then you pause to sit and realize everyone in the eating area is getting a good gander at the color of your underwear. It's no good I tell you. No good.

A little stool goes a long way.

In other news, I've had a revelation on writing and dominoes, which I posted at my other blog. Go check it out. :-)