I am soooooooo exhausted from trying to keep up with Mini Me. Dad, Pop, I have NO idea how you did it.

Current Mood: exhausted

Between the five year old version of our son Xander and the six month old version of me, I'm afraid that my husband is going to get baby fever. Or already has it.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Current Mood: indescribable

Fascinating.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddy! I wanna make anudder fort! An' Papa said we can has ice cream for dinner!

I would just like to say . . . my kids are amazing. That is all.

( Xander and Lessa (readable by my Gabriel, as well) )

Just pretend this was posted earlier in the day. *coughs*

( Left on the kitchen table for one Peter Petrelli )

Current Mood: pleased

This is decidedly inconvenient.

I was in the middle of something.

What the hell did you do, Nakamura? We're supposed to be looking for Peter and my kids! Not teleporting exactly where we were!

Current Mood: annoyed

I certainly hope no one expects me to buy that load of tripe that I was just fed as an explanation as to why I am suddenly not where I'm supposed to be.

Does anyone care to explain exactly what is going on here, and why someone felt it was necessary to so rudely interrupt my lunch in order to play a hilariously unfunny practical joke?

Awesome, now I have a headache...

I tant fine Tuddwes!

. . . huh. Haven't done THAT in years.