I sadly don't get to spend much one on one time with Angus anymore. Bedtime is our time---a good solid hour every night for our routine of bath, bedtime stories, singing songs together in the dark, and snuggling close. I miss the old days of our little spontaneous daily adventures, just the two of us, and I know he does, too. Should I feel guilty admitting that? I love being a mom to two kids, but I honestly miss the ease of having only one soul to please and protect when we are out and about. They do this whole divide and conquer routine on me now which makes the smallest errand kind of stressful. Going to the library, something that was once very relaxing, is now a misadventure every time we go. Noah thinks the goal is the hasty removal of every book from the shelves while Angus demands my undivided attention as he shows me a million and a half things a minute. So understand me when I vent that I am only doing that. I feel for the little guy. He deserves me to himself, and likewise. It seems that I now spend most of the time we are together running defense for him, trying my best to keep Noah from ruining the big-kid fun Angus is having. Noah eats crayons and paint and Play Dough so we can't let him near the table during arts & crafts time. Noah is a book shredder, a train track annihilator, a block-castle destroyer, and an enthusiastic racetrack messer-upper. So I get the pleasure of being a one woman police force dutifully patrolling the border between Angus' fun and Noah's pursuit of happiness. And it is murky territory, since the two lands bleed together and, at the moment, mix like oil and water.