Saturday morning at the house of confusion and incessant chatter.

I'm sitting at the compy desk when Emma appears from the laundry room fully outfitted in her snow coat, hat, and shoes.

Shit, is it still Friday? Did I finally go totally mental and forget that we needed to be somewhere, because frankly, I was all set to spend the day in my robe.

"What are you doing Emma?"

"You said I needed shoes."

The caffeine finally kicks in and I recall a snippet of a conversation we'd had a few minutes earlier regarding her relentless need to follow me around and share every thought that falls out of her brain. Out loud. All of the time.

"No sweetie. I said you have issues."

"Oh. Okay. Hey Mom, when Granny gets here for the tea party, I was really thinking...."