The other day I was walking through the den on my way to another part of the house when I stopped and muttered aloud that I couldn't remember why I was heading in that direction.
Tater Tot replied, "Well, it's too bad that your remembery isn't as good as mine. Because I have a great remembery."
Yes. Until it's time to pick up and put away toys or brush teeth or wash hands or do anything he's been told to do four hundred times that doesn't fall into the FUN category. Then his remembery resembles that of his father's. You know --- selective remembery.
Anyway, every night as I fall into bed I have the feeling that I meant to do something but can't remember what it was. A little while ago I picked up my computer and thought about the blog and how I haven't paid much attention to it lately. And then it hit me. I keep meaning to blog, but I can't seem to remember it before I've collapsed for the night, unable to form complete sentences.
Tater Tales isn't a big blog. I think readership may be in the negative numbers at this point. But the truth is, I miss blogging regularly. I'm neglecting the opportunity to keep some kind of record of life with two funny little boys who do and say funny things. The little stuff is hard to remember as it is.
Especially when your remembery is as bad as mine.