Apples to apples
Jen wrote about other services the other day and I decided to check into at least one other.
As long as I'm here, I'll tell you a story about my couch/sofa/davenport. Once upon a time, Katie was three-and-a-half and Ali was one-and-a-half and I didn't own a slipcover of any kind. The floors of my house were like a conveyor belt, there were so many washable markers and crayons and colored pencils strewn about. You could get from the front door to the kitchen with one, quick, rolling step. (By the time Maddy arrived, there were sharp-cornered Legos added to the mix, drastically compromising the conveyor and damn, they hurt!) Katie
was is smart and she was learning to write. I walked into the living room one day to see "Ali" written in very large, very orange marker on the inside arm of the couch -- I have to say, it was very good use of available space. In that purely rhetorical way of mothers, I screamed asked, "Katie, who DID that?!" She looked at me with those big, blue eyes and said, "Ali did." Ali's very smart, too, but at that time, she was still barely controlling the desire to eat the marker! It still cracks me up. I think I got most of it off -- there might still be a ghostly image or a strange orange glow in the area.
By the way, I'd love to have you all over for knitting -- a slumber party would be even better. Just call ahead, okay?