Oh my goodness. The children are killing me. Slowly. Midget 2.0 is a biter without discrimination, Lil' Puddin' Tater is becoming a teenager before my very eyes, and both of them are starting to argue with one another. Granted, Midget 2.0 usually just growls, but it's arguing in my book. AND M2.0 has morphed from pudgy/drooly/sweet thing I can carry with me wherever I go (i.e., out to lunch with the girls, running errands, emptying the dishwasher, etc.) to a little terror who tries to eat everything in sight, becomes attached to things like rocks and will not give them up for any reason, and yells. At me. Frequently. Just last night, I was trying to make sense of the kitchen, putting dishes and groceries away. M2.0 wanted to be in the refrigerator. Then he wanted the knife out of the dishwasher. Then he wanted the banana peel out of the trash can. Now, as you can probably deduce, not a single one of these activities was acceptable. So he proceeds to get stuck under one of the kitchen chairs. When freed, he plops down and begins telling me off. I stood, dumbfounded, and just took it. I'm a total wuss.

Anyway, after I put the wee angerball in bed, LPT, D and I made homemade pizza. And it went perfectly, except LPT ate almost an entire bag of shredded cheese. But she made her own little pizza and D and I made THE BEST PIZZA EVER. Here's how to do it:

Layer the ingredients in the following order:

Pizza crust (store-bought, pre-cooked)
Thin layer of olive oil, brushed on
Pizza sauce
Diced tomatoes (the ones seasoned with oregano and garlic)
Pepperoni (just a few)
Italian Cheese
More pepperoni
Ham cubes
Goat cheese crumbles
More Italian cheese
Red onion slices
Fresh Basil Leaves

Bake at 425 degrees until it looks appetizing.

My children are destroying the world.

Midget 2.0 is in a general destructive phase. He may not intend to, but the problem is that he enjoys pushing buttons - literally. If there's a remote nearby, he'll find and commandeer it, then proceed to push a button and look at the nearest piece of electronic equipment. Then he purposefully pushes another button, and looks expectantly at the object he thinks the remote should control. If he's permitted near the stereo/dvd player/receiver/tv area, he goes hog wild: each button is pushed repeatedly, ad nauseum, until he is forcibly removed, at which point he protests loudly. He has successfully unplugged and turned completely silent our stereo, turned off the tv while Lil' Puddin' Tater is watching (a very dangerous move on his part - I think he may have a death wish) and rendered useless several game controllers. If he could reach the computer, I'm certain he would casually unleash the next world-crippling virus.

Lil' Puddin' Tater, for her part, is focusing mainly on cars. Today, in the span of a single hour, she succeeded in killing my car battery, shutting the garage door on my purse, and removing the back windshield of Papa's truck, which he then proceeded to drive over and shatter. When she (finally) went inside for dinner, she knocked several items off the end table and began to play with bandage tape. She was headed for Midget 2.0 when I releived her of the offending tape and sent to the bathtub.

This is why I go to bed at 8:30 every night. And why I'm going to have gray hair sooner than later.