Our apartment building in Cleveland has a kid’s room, and Ben treats it as a sort-of lending library for books. Usually it’s nice and tidy, but on Sunday, it looked like a toddler tornado had just breezed through.
Sometimes I like to let Ben finish sentences to see what words he chooses. Why? Well, here’s how it went in the disheveled kid’s room:
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Me: Wow, Ben, look at this room. Somebody made a big…
Ben: Poop.
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And later that day, Ben made his choices for the Ohio midterm elections. He could never deal with an election booth, so Ben’s voting booth is the apartment and his ballot box is the mailbox.
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Ben’s bins.
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Ben in heaven. We stopped by his old cottage today to see one of his (and our) favorite people in the world. Pop Tart + Cornisha = It doesn’t get any better.
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And we hit the right weekend for a Ben visit — fall harvest colors.