Okay, so if you look just above this type you'll find my heading, “On Megan's Mind.” Yep, that's me. You can find me here every few weeks divulging what's been on my mind lately but these days it's too cluttered for me to even figure out which end is up or what way I'm suppose to be going.

What were “quiet” times are no longer quiet and I wouldn't know “peace” if it quietly snuck up and bit me in the “you know what.” But see I'm not sure if I'll ever know that former type of peace and quiet. I think at some point I'll just have to adjust to a new type because I, even at 21, was still going into the bathroom to ask my mom a question every once in a while. ☺

The other morning, I thought the little one (who acts about as independent as a 21-year-old) was putting a little of those tips she'd seen on some of the DIY shows to use.

It was a Monday morning on top of that and we all know how they go…

She woke up early, asked for her pancakes and juice and then she said, “Momma get in the shawa! I'mma go to my room and play.” (Mornings used to be a time when I could get ready in peace but not anymore-she's learned that she was missing out and needed to wake up earlier.)

Anyways, all of a sudden I heard a loud pounding noise coming from her room.

Bam, bam, bam…bam! It sounded like she was doing some demolition to me.

Then I hear, “Oh no, it broke!” come across the monitor.

Bam, bam, bam…bam! She went back at it again.

“Tessa! What did you break!” I shout from behind the shower curtain getting her attention (see I can't even have five minutes).

And then, there she is-she'd gathered her stuff up and ran into the bathroom to show me what she'd done.

“It's broke, momma!” she said.

I'm still trying to get the shampoo out of my hair but I peer out long enough to see that the roof of her wooden dollhouse had come off (It fits together with a slat and she was evidently using the slat to beat the two halves back together which is why she couldn't get them to fit back together.)

Soooo…without trying to soak the entire bathroom floor I persuaded her to “please give me a few more minutes” and “I'll be right out to help you put it back together.”

Yeah right! Like I really thought that pep talk was going to work and buy me some time.

She looks at me, shrugs her shoulders and responds, “No!! I'mma go back and try again!”

And there she went…

Bam, bam, bam…bam!

And then a little louder…

Bam, bam, bam…bam!

By then, I was out and striding through the house to take care of the dollhouse demo work and anything else she had destroyed in the meantime.

“See the wack (crack) momma!” she pleaded while showing me how she couldn't get the two sides of the roof to fit back together.

I was tired and defeated and it was ONLY a little after 7 A.M. on a Monday morning but I had to laugh.<br />
I put the piece in its right spot and told her that if she didn't use the most important piece as a hammer it would have fit back together.

“Oh, I see,” she said, just like it was really no big deal.

“I'll use this one! Next time!” she yelled as she dug through her toolbox just over in the other corner.

GREAT! I can't wait…

She might look like me-but that's probably about it because she surely acts just like her daddy!

I like my peace and quiet so I can think, sleep in on an occasion, and I'm really not a fan of having to fix houses first thing in the morning but, see, all of that is just like her daddy so I'm in luck!

Sometimes I think if there were nothing on his to-do list he'd make coffee nervous.

So I'll let you in on a little secret: my hope is that one day, when she's a little older (aka potty-trained), they'll take their adventurous, Mr. and Little Miss Fix-It selves and leave me to a quiet and peaceful house every now and then so I can have a little “On Megan's Mind” time.