Today I—er, Housekeeping—was dusting K.Lo’s room (happens maybe twice a year), and I knocked down a picture frame from the wall, once that falls if you breathe on it funny, because the hook on the back is broken. No harm done to the picture, but K.Lo noticed my dropping it and said, “Mommy break the picture?”

I said, “No, I just dropped the picture. It’s not broken.”

And then K.Lo launches into her own little song, sung to the tune of “Camptown Races”:

Mommy’s always breaking things, breaking things, breaking things,

Mommy’s always breaking things…

Initially, I suspected the CEO was behind this musical insubordination, but he claims innocence. My suspicions remain high. I’ll be conducting more in-depth interrogations as the Work Week continues.

This conversation was shot directly following a snit-fit over at the refrigerator, in which K.Lo randomly got it in her head that she wanted BEER. Or wine. Or beer.

I think we could both use a chilled glass of something.

Every Friday evening, the CEO escapes our office (and The Other Office) to play beach volleyball. This year, he took over the job of collecting team fees, and is keeping the money in an envelope, zipped up in his backpack, which sits downstairs in the Media Room. Earlier today, while I was working one-on-one in the Conference Room with The New Guy, K.Lo disappeared and became very quiet. Unless it's the Night Shift or Afternoon Break, quiet employees are suspect employees. Moments later, K.Lo returns to the Conference Room with an absolutely giant pile of cash, which she gleefully deposited onto the Conference Room table. She had managed to transport all $305 from the backpack envelope, up the stairs, and across the kitchen, with a gleam in her eye that only a fat payout can inspire. Not surprisingly, she was most unhappy when the cash pile was confiscated; though, I admit that I, too, could see the appeal in playing with a mountain of bills.

K.Lo hates:
sleep
the vacuum cleaner

But apparently one (the vacuum cleaner) can beget the other (sleep). For as difficult as the Bug is to get down for a nap or bedtime? Lo and behold, I bring out the vacuum cleaner today and she runs screaming down the hall to her bedroom, which makes me laugh because I'm totally mean. And by the time I've vacuumed my way back there to take care of her room and check her status, she's curled up in her bed with her doll and blanket, completely out. I'll have to vacuum in there later, but in the meantime--?! Although maybe I'm onto something: clean floors and a sleeping child. It could work.