partly cloudy with a chance of baby.

So, I had made a yummy breakfast, slaving over a hot stove (really just stirring their cereal every now and then...) and it was time to eat. James was around, but Helena was not in the kitchen, so I go searching. She's not in the living room, not hiding under the table... the doors to the bathroom, office, and guest room are all closed.

I check our bedroom. No Helena. I check the babies' room. No Helena. Hmm... maybe she was hiding in another room? As I turn to walk back down the hall, I hear a sound from inside the babies' room. Aha! She's hiding! Not many places to hide in there. I check behind the door, no Helena. I hear a small sound again coming from the closet. The closet! of course. The closet door is usually closed, which makes it playtime promised land. all that fun stuff to play with, like outgrown clothes and carseats, which are all about to get some use again very soon.

I curse myself for leaving the door to the closet open, when I realize it's possible they opened it themselves: James can open doors now, after a sustained effort. These are the thoughts going through my head as I navigate across the toy-strewn floor, which are interrupted by Helena making her appearance: not, as I thought, hiding on the floor, but rather flying out of the closet from a few feet off the ground. It was raining babies! Helena landed in a pile of 6 mo. onesies and plastic Easter eggs without a sound, and looked thouroughly shocked. She had been climbing up the boxes of old clothes, and was no worse for the wear, just a little surprised.