Made Service

"I made!" the Tominator exclaims, examining his handiwork. We have guests coming in 20 minutes to celebrate this day of independence, and my entire first floor is now baby powder fresh, thanks to a toddler and a two-pound can of talc.

On top of each of the 88 piano keys is a carefully arranged pile of powder. The piano bench is smeared with powdery handprints and streaks. The baby's basinett is half-full of powder, and tom even sprinkled the couch, but it actually makes the cream-colored fabric look and smell better, so I can't complain too much about that.

At the foot of the stairs, he has lovingly applied white diaper cream to our dark gray carpet.

The baby is squalling, covered in spit up and demanding his bath. SuperHubby has finally met his archnemisis - the Influenza bug - and is trying valiantly to sleep it off.

Lord help us all.